Prove Yourself Worthy
by truglasgowgal
Summary: It has been said that the world is changing; that the prejudices of old are being pushed aside in light of a new wave of opinion. Acceptance. The Slytherins returning to Hogwarts intend to test this theory. Series compliant. Draco/Astoria.
1. Prologue: The World We Live In

Hey there!  
So, I posted the original version of this, and another HP fic some time ago, but I've decided to **completely redo** this (and possibly merge some of the parts from both the olds ones – but I doubt many will recognise those parts which I do include, since I don't think they were even posted – for the most part, at least ;) )  
Hope you like…

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**Title:** Prove Yourself Worthy  
**Disclaimer:** I own nothing  
**A/N:** This will mainly revolve around Astoria and Daphne's lives, which will include their interactions with other Slytherins and, hopefully, show how they all deal with returning to Hogwarts after the War.  
**Summary:** It has been said that the world is changing; that the prejudices of old are being pushed aside in light of a new wave of opinion. Acceptance. The Slytherins returning to Hogwarts intend to test this theory.

"_I wanted you to see what real courage is, instead of getting the idea that courage is a man with a gun in his hand. It's when you know you're licked before you begin but you begin anyway and you see it through no matter what.__"  
_**_Harper Lee_**

.

Prologue: The World We Live In

_There is talk of change in our world._

_People say Harry Potter saved us all once; twice even; and he will continue to do so by creating a new world, a __**better**__ world, in which we will all live._

_All witches and wizards, as one._

_I'll believe it when I see it._

_._

_**Right now, the trials are still ongoing. It's true, the majority have been 'dealt with', but the matters will never be fully laid to rest. Not like the bodies of the fallen.**_

_**There are murmurs as we walk down the street, people whispering and others staring, those who are more bold point fingers and hurl abuse. They lay blame at our feet for something we never made claim to.**_

_**If adults can look at children and treat them this way, what hope do we have that their own children won't act in the same way?**_

_._

_Here's everything I know about war: somebody wins, somebody loses, and nothing is ever the same again._

_Never let them tell you it's about glory… it's about death and loss._

_Death divides and death unites; and I reckon I already know what side I'll be on._

_It's the way it's always been; they'll soon see._

_One quarter against three: it's not a fair fight, but then, it never has been._

_Make it all against all and then maybe we'll progress to something better._

_Maybe we'll make a future that was worth fighting for._

_._

_**All those who lived through the Battle of Hogwarts will never forget; the dead have not been allowed to.**_

_**But the truth is, we lived numb and cold most of the time.**_

_**I know because I lived among them, because I was one of them.**_

_**An innocent person died here or there and we sort of… looked at the newspaper or radio with a blank stare. Every once in a while we might shake our heads or say 'too bad.'**_

_**In truth, we were guilty of dehumanising the suffering and death of others. Somehow, people began to allow their minds to be warped by the idea that the end justified the means.**_

_**Even standing back, it let others declare that killing innocent people was the price we had to pay for freedom; it suggested we endorsed this view.**_

_**I never claimed to follow such ideals; I have seen all too clearly what the death of the innocent could do to people.**_

_**And there can be no freedom from the quilt of a conscience with innocent blood on its hands.**_

_**I won't let them say we all are at fault; I won't allow them to shift the blame onto us.**_

_**Slytherin will not be made to suffer alone for the happenings of the War.**_

_**We are not the only villains in this tale.**_

_**Some aren't villains at all.**_

TBC…

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Quotes:  
The second bold part adapted from: "We lived numb and cold most of the time. An innocent person died here or there in an act of terror, or rather, in the act of war and we sort of looked at the newspaper or radio with a blank stare. Every once in a while we would shake our heads and say 'too bad'. We were guilty of dehumanising the suffering and death of others.  
Somehow we allowed our minds to be warped by the idea that the end justified the means. We stood back and let others declare that the killing of innocent people was the price we had to pay for freedom, and we endorsed this view. But there can be no freedom from the guilt of a conscience with innocent blood on its hands."  
I changed this somewhat from the original version, which I found on the Internet; last year some time, I think it was. It was credited as 'Unknown', but if anyone does in fact know the identity of the person who penned or _typed_ this, please let me know.  
"Here's everything I know about war: somebody wins, somebody loses, and nothing is ever the same again." – 'Andromeda'

I should have the first chapter up before the end of the week :)  
Thanks for reading, and please let me know what you think – it means a lot!  
Steph  
xxx


	2. Ch1:The Brightest Day, The Darkest Night

A/N: I'm away on holiday for the next two weeks, so the next chapter won't be up till then

Hope you like…

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Chapter One: The Brightest Day, The Darkest Night

"_It's not about how you see the world; it's about how the world sees you."  
**Unknown**_

.

The heat from the sun beats down on her as she turns her head to the sky in time to see her sister begin to make her descent; there are two dark forms quick on her tail.

Astoria lands hard, feet skidding across the grass, before she trips herself up and tumbles over on the ground.

Squinting against the light and adjusting her hand to shade her eyes from the sun, allows Daphne the possibility to distinguish the identity of the two foreign shapes that are currently advancing on their position.

Her sister seems to notice it too as her blue eyes sparkle in the light and she casually questions, "Are we expecting mail?"

"You tell me," Daphne quips and turns to raise her eyebrows at Astoria as the girl brushes at her robes, dusting off the green tendrils that hang there.

"Hey!" The younger straightens, holds up her hands in defence. "I've been here with you the whole time."

She rolls her eyes at her sister. "Like my presence has ever really stopped you before."

"I see our stretch as Hogwarts finest has come to its end." He appears on Astoria's side, face tilted towards the sky as he speaks.

"Draco," Daphne greets him with a smile.

His pale skin is impossibly bright under the midday sun and she resists the urge to laugh.

The teasing lilt hits her lips instead and she comments, "I thought you'd prefer to be inside on a day like today."

The blonde shoots her a scathing look and tells her, "I'd rather not have to be subjected to shining like a blinding jewel in this light, but the prospect of certain incoming mail had me intrigued."

"So you think they're from Hogwarts then?" Daphne inquires, her dark eyes scrutinising his face for a reaction.

Draco sends her a sideways glance; which is apparently answer enough.

And then his lips quirk up in a half smirk as he reaches out and pulls a strand of grass from where its twisted itself around her younger sister's loose brown locks.

"I'd have thought you'd have learned how to stand on your own two feet by now, Astoria," he remarks with an amused look in his eyes.

Her younger sister's eyes cloud over and narrow in his direction, but there's a playfulness in Astoria's tone when she replies, "If I'd known you were going to be out here, I'd have used your unnaturally reflective skin as a target and aimed straight for you."

He gives her a half-glare while she flashes him a brilliant smile.

Daphne rolls her eyes at the pair and returns her attention to the two creatures that have come ever closer into her line of vision.

She shares a single look with Draco when the owls drop the envelopes into their hands in perfect sequence, and they both eye the crimson red seal that bleeds into the parchment and breaks beneath her fingertips when she tears it open to unfurl the letter beneath.

The words spill out within moments and she gasps before she can stop herself at what she is reading, what she is seeing.

Daphne hears him as he mutters _incendio_, watches as the paper curls and burns and the ash falls to the ground, singeing blades of grass with its downfall. She sees him turn and walk away, and makes a move to go after him. Her sister looks across at her, blue eyes having widened somewhat as she subtly shakes her head, stopping her in her tracks.

They turn their heads back to the clear panorama before them, and watch the flight of the messengers until they are nothing more than tiny black dots on an otherwise perfect scene.

.

"If you knew it was going to happen, why are you so upset?" Astoria says, after the silence has surrounded them for quite a considerable amount of time. She's not adverse to it, in general, often revels in it, in fact; but this, right now, is verging on ridiculous.

She lowers the magazine she's reading and raises an eyebrow at Draco. He has one leg bent at the knee and crossed over the other, arms that run the length of each armrest; his foot bouncing up and down in a slight, but noticeable, movement and his fingers grating into the wood beneath, leaving half moons carvings. His face is stoic as he looks intently out at the night sky; his jaw ticking as it clouds over, obscuring his view of the moon.

"I'm not _upset_." He enunciates each word and turns then to stare hard into her eyes.

She'd find it unnerving if she hadn't spent a considerable amount of time in his company already throughout her somewhat short life. And now he is staying with her and her family for the remainder of the summer, she is trying to adapt fairly quickly to anything she might've missed over the years – he _is_ two years older, after all.

His father had taken his mother to France to stay in their family home, away from the constantly prying eyes of the British public, though not entirely free from the scrutiny of the Ministry. Draco opted to stay behind, after the whole spectacle of trial and punishment had run its course in correspondence with him personally, and her grandfather graciously offered to take the young Malfoy in for the rest of the holidays.

He isn't exactly difficult company, to be honest. Well, when he is in his more co-operative of moods. He is certainly more experienced on a broom than Daphne, not to mention far more willing to practice a spot of Quidditch with Astoria than her older sister is partial to, which pleases both Greengrasses immensely.

And she knows her grandfather finds him far easier to appease than his two girls, though Astoria has her doubts to the truth in this. She suspects it's only because he's not been there very long yet. Once he starts moving her sister's things, she knows it will be a different matter; what with Daphne being a complete control-freak and _very particular_ about others touching that which belongs to her. Then again, Daphne can be rather amenable too when she wants to be, so it wouldn't entirely surprise Astoria if she herself ends up being the main cause of any trouble; as is the normal formation of their household.

"You're disappointed," Astoria rephrases, hoping this will mollify him enough to admit as such.

"For that to be possible, I'd have to have had expectations of change," is all Draco responds to that, blandly, as he turns his head slowly to give her his attention once again.

"For that _not_ to be possible, you'd have to be less than human," she answers right back.

His lips part but a fraction, and she revels in the rush of amusement that courses through her when she speaks before he has the chance.

"Unfortunately for you, I've seen you bleed, _remember?_" she says, giving him a pointed look, before cracking a triumphant smirk in his direction. "And you're as human as I am."

"Merlin help me," he mutters.

"Merlin help us all," is her response.

They share a wry smile in the flickering light of the fire, before there's a plume of smoke and a figure emerges from beneath the grand stone mount, coughing and spluttering, and cursing her and it and then her again; effectively breaking whatever spell was between them.

"Good evening to you too, Blaise," is Draco's dry response to the display. "I didn't realise we'd be treated to your company this evening."

The black boy turns and simply looks at the other, muttering a quick spell to rid himself of the dust and ash covering his clothes and quell the flames still licking at his feet.

"Something the matter?" is Astoria's greeting, features relaxed into an amused display as she raises an eyebrow at him and smiles sweetly up at the older boy.

The growl sounds low in his throat and he moves to lunge towards her; she leaps from her previous place reclined languidly on the sofa and squeals loudly as he advances on her position.

It's the best thing about the house, she thinks; the walls allow for echo and the sound of her amusement resounds clearly. Her plan is for transference: laughter saves her from even the darkest of memories; she can only hope, while being housed within these walls, that it might do the same for someone else.

.

Draco takes his leave before he has to witness anything that _couple_ class as _affection_ being played out in front of him. Admittedly, their initial display of cat-and-mouse had amused him, but he doubted it would continue in the same manner for much longer, so he'd excused himself. His nightmares aren't in need of any fresh material, not even of that content.

He finds Daphne in the drawing room playing chess with her grandfather.

"Blaise has arrived then," she notes, without turning round to look at him.

"Indeed," he says by way of confirmation, taking a step closer towards where they sit opposite one another.

"Ah, so that was what all the commotion was about," Antares Greengrass remarks, looking up at the blonde with a chuckle, his blue eyes sparkling; a trait his youngest granddaughter seems to have inherited. "Forget to put the fire out, did she?"

"I suspect she did it on purpose," Draco murmurs and takes a seat near the pair, his eyes on the game that is playing out before them.

"I wouldn't fret about it," the elder reassures him, as if he really needs it. "I'd be worried if she did anything less to the poor boy."

Daphne puts an end to anything further transpiring between them then with a triumphant cry of, "Checkmate!"

Her grandfather just sighs; shaking his head, he _tut-tuts_ himself for letting her get another one by him.

"Poor boy indeed," she mutters, and casts Draco a look she knows he'll agree with.

Daphne shares a smile with her grandfather then and he rises, placing a tender hand on her cheek as he congratulates her, before bidding the two teenagers goodnight and leaving the room.

She's taking her usual few minutes to study the canvas of the board before her, when he decides to break the measure of seriousness by voicing, "Is it true that you're seeing Theo Nott?"

The faintest trace of a smile graces her lips as she inquires, "Now, Draco, wherever could you have heard such a thing?"

"Astoria might've been chatting to Blaise, and I might've overheard," is his response to that.

He is deliberately vague and it makes her smile grow.

She turns to look at him, her dark eyes swirling like chocolate in a mixing plate, and replies, "You mean, Blaise was talking away to my sister who was pretending to be interested in the apparent nonsensical happenings of my social life."

He doesn't give her the satisfaction of an answer.

"My sister doesn't gossip," Daphne informs him knowingly. "Blaise on the other hand…" she trails off.

Draco nods at this, and then tilts his head slightly to get a better vantage point as he watches for her reaction as he notes, "You never refer to him as her boyfriend."

The brunette turns her attention away from the board once more to throw him a look as she queries, "Well, would you?"

"Is that not how the youngsters refer to one another these days? Are they not the terms the children employ when a man and a woman conduct _relations_?"

He's teasing her, well aware that she knows this. It's not exactly a rare occurrence, but he's not acted like that with her since they were nothing more than children in a barely deserted common room at Hogwarts. It's a somewhat comforting thought to know he has managed to retain some things in light of the dark age in which they've come to conduct their lives.

"Have you ever actually _seen _them together, Draco?" Daphne asks him then, in part disbelief, her eyebrows lifted in question.

He stares straight back at her, and after a quiet moment she smiles.

"I advise staying and observing them some time while they're together," she suggests, clearly entertained. "I think you'll find they don't have quite the same _relationship_ say, you and Pans had, for instance."

She throws a smile his way, utters an incantation that causes the board to clear itself before flying across to the opposite side of the room and plant itself on a shelf in the imbedded bookcase there, while she simply excuses herself and bids him goodnight.

He doesn't think he'll take her advice: not least because _Pansy_ and he had an… odd _relationship_ at the best of times, no matter how much he may have liked the girl. He doesn't particularly feel like dredging up those memories in order for a comparison with a boy he can barely stand and the younger sister of the girl he shared a dorm with the previous year.

Some things are just not meant to work that way.

And Daphne never did answer his question, he hasn't forgotten. It's not a surprise to be honest; people rarely give him what he asks for these days.

.

"Where are you going?"

His question halts Astoria in her tracks, and she spins slowly round to face him.

"To Daphne's room," she replies, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world, though she eyes him rather suspiciously throughout.

"Why?" is his next inquiry.

"Why not?" she returns, stating, "There's a thunderstorm."

"Oh," he says, "And Daphne needs comforting on a night like tonight, does she?"

"And if she does?" Her voice has taken on a harder edge; he expects as much, though, the Greengrass sisters are fiercely protective of one another.

Draco just smirks at her and sweeps a hand across his front, an elaborate display in the air between them.

"Then by all means," he announces, amusement lilting his words. "Please proceed."

Astoria shoots him a look, but he catches the way her lips have curved at the edges, as she turns and moves towards her original destination.

He takes the uninterrupted moment to look her up and down. She's got a dark blue silk dressing gown on over white pyjamas; the material clings to her and he finds himself staring that moment too long. Clearing the thoughts almost as soon as they enter his mind; _this is __**Astoria**_, he reminds himself steadfastly; he can't help the smirk that appears, however, when his eyes trail from head to toe.

"What?" she demands, turning on her heel to eye him; apparently she noticed the fact he was watching her leave, despite the fact she had her back turned to him the whole time.

Moments like this make him dwell seriously on the notion that witches have abnormal powers above that of their male counterparts. He doesn't find it at all fair. They're far too intuitive, far too knowing.

"Hmm," Draco voices, his eyebrows lifting to match the muted tone caught in his throat.

He slowly lifts his head and meets her eyes, dark to light.

"Oh." He raises a finger to his chin, lets it graze his lips as they quirk up into a half-smile; his eyes drag from her slipper-clad toes to the brown locks curling past her shoulders. "You just have extremely tiny feet, is all. Tiny feet make for tiny steps."

He tilts his head as he faces her once more, only to find she's glaring at him, a hand on her hip.

"I'll have you know, I'm perfectly in proportion," Astoria replies indignantly.

"A fact I'm sure Blaise would be only too happy to attest to," is Draco's amused response.

She leans forward and narrows her eyes further, telling him, "You're confusing me with Parkinson again – I'm not into kiss-and-tell."

And then the brunette straightens, a smug smile crossing her lips.

"Another thing that makes me all the more appealing than your ex," she adds triumphantly.

And on that note, she saunters confidently away, her hips sashaying with each _tiny_ step she takes.

He's still smirking when he sees the door shut behind her as she disappears completely from his view.

He'd almost forgotten how easily entertained he could be in Astoria's company. She is so easy to rile, quick with her comebacks, and the fact she looks rather delectable while doing so certainly doesn't hinder her advances any.

Draco chuckles lightly when he hears the click of the turning lock on Daphne's door: appealing indeed.

His mood has lifted considerably as he begins to make his way to his own room; the thunder a distant background noise, the lightening merely guiding him on his way.

.

It is the brightest day the country has seen since the end of the War when the two Slytherins receive word that they are no longer Head Boy and Girl at Hogwarts.

The night that follows is cold and dark and a thunderstorm brews about the Greengrass Estate.

The irony is not lost on them. It tells them more than they wished to have to admit to themselves.

The War has not changed a thing.

The world is the same as it's always been.

.

**_TBC…_**

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Thanks for reading, and please let me know what you think – it means a lot!  
Steph  
Xxx


	3. Ch2: Rise Against, Stand Up

A/N: Chapter title is from lyrics of the P.O.D song 'Rise Against'

Hope you like…

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Chapter Two: Rise Against, Stand Up For What Is Right, Are You Willing To Try

_"Everyone sees what you seem, but few know what you are."  
**Machiavelli**_

.

It is the last week of August when Draco receives a letter from his mother telling him that he will be returning to Hogwarts and it would be in his interest if he frequented Diagon Alley for anything he would be needing during the year to come. The tone with which his mother writes this tells him arguing with her on this matter would be futile. The mere fact that it is his mother and not his father writing to him speaks volumes in itself.

A few days before he is due at King's Cross, Daphne appears before him as he's rereading his letter informing him of what he'll need for the upcoming year.

"Care to accompany me into Diagon Alley?" she proposes with a small, tempting, smile.

"You've been dealt the same fate then, I see," he comments.

He tilts his head to look up at her, and then squints his eyes at what he _knows_ he's seeing.

"You're using a _glamour_," he says, and his brow furrows as the statement becomes a question in his mind.

Her whole frame stiffens, but she doesn't reply.

Instead, she walks over to the fireplace and lifts the lid on a dark oval shaped container, taking a handful of dust out before replacing the top once more.

She turns to face him and says, "Come with me now or you'll end up having to go alone."

"And what makes you think that will bother me, exactly?" he questions, raising an eyebrow in her direction.

She narrows her eyes at him, the look on her face telling him she _knows_ how it would make him feel, and then with a small smirk calls out her destination, and she's gone with a puff of smoke.

He follows mere moments later; though he doesn't exactly jump after her. Daphne is right of course, whether she voices it or not, but Draco doesn't need to tell her that.

.

They stride through the streets perfectly in step with one another; but she seems to be far more successful than he is in ignoring the whispers that aren't so hushed and the fingers of blame that point all too seemingly accurately at their passing forms.

Draco stops short when Daphne is about to open the door, raising his eyes and looking at the sign above his head.

_Ollivander's: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C._

She turns to look at him, and he knows she sees the apprehension in his eyes, even if the tremors running through his hands are hidden beneath the sleeves of his robes.

"You need a new wand, don't you?" is all she says, before taking the decisive step inside.

He doesn't bother to inform her that he's already well versed in a multitude of wandless spells, instead taking a deep breath and following her through the doorway she's left open for him.

The man behind the counter recognises him instantly; he stumbles backward slightly before recovering himself.

"No," he states. "No, no, no, no, no, no."

"We have the right to service," Daphne says simply; and Draco thinks her voice must be impossibly loud to be heard above the pounding in his ears, the hammering against his ribcage.

"And I have the right to refuse service to whomever I choose," is the elderly man's retort.

He takes a step forward, though he's not sure what for. To threaten the man? To apologise?

"You will serve us," Daphne's voice is lower than he thinks he's ever heard. So determined. He takes a breath in; the pounding and hammering have ceased to dull thuds and the full weight of the brunette's words wash over him. "Or I will report you for prejudicial behaviour and victimisation."

"Victimisation," the man scoffs.

"And I _know_ you're well aware of how seriously the Ministry of Magic is taking that issue at this current time," she continues her previous point, seemingly unperturbed.

Her eyes have narrowed quite significantly since they set foot in this shop.

"No matter what _side_ you were on," Daphne spits contemptuously.

After a few tense moments, in which he's certain he hasn't moved even an inch from his place, the man shuffles over towards the rows and rows of boxes, and begrudgingly he slides a few across the counter, lifting the lids and presenting them to the blonde.

Draco reaches out a hand, and tries not to notice how the man stills at the move.

"I should tell you, I've already done a protection spell," the elder informs him then. "And we all know what will happen to you if you try anything worse."

He flicks his wrist and a jet of red light shoots out from the end of the wand and destroys the shelf on an opposite wall. His eyes set with the older man's and he lifts the next wand; the light is blue this time and a large crack appears over the window-front.

He tries out the rest the man has laid out for him, neither saying a word as he continues to calmly and deliberately destroy portions of the man's business; he's far too experienced with a wand, his abilities too disciplined, to ever cause such damage by _accident_; they both know that. He's not exactly sure why he has such a strong, sudden desire to bring further disorder to this man's life than he was a part of in the past; but this, this is organised chaos, carefully crafted, yielded by his own hand. He's never been in control of the turmoil that surrounds him before, not really, it's always threatened to consume him and he's always been scared that one day he'll simply _let it_.

The thought strikes him hard and fast and he drops the wand to the counter with a clatter that rings in his ears and, still without a word, he settles on the first one he tried. Hawthorn, 10 ¼", dragon heartstring core. He fixes all the physical damage he just caused nonverbally with a quick flick of the wrist and unceremoniously drops the money on the counter, muttering a "thank-you." His only words to the man since they entered, and they're as foreign as he expected when they come from his mouth.

When he steps out onto the street he drags a long breath in. Feeling the air rush back into his lungs, he waits until they feel like they are about to burst with the strain before releasing it slowly. He's found, more recently at least, that he needs to remind himself of the taste, the feel of freedom.

Daphne is still inside and he hears her words as they travel out the door with the gust of wind that wraps itself around him.

"Draco Malfoy was Master of the Elder Wand at one time. That is a feat few wizards in our history can lay claim to."

The wind prickles at his skin as he listens to her speak.

"You would do well to remember that it was this, along with the huge risk Draco's own mother took, that enabled Harry Potter to defeat the Dark Lord."

The old man murmurs something the blonde can't quite make out, but he hears the elder's next words loud and clear, as if they've been the anthem of his whole life.

"What goes around comes around."

Daphne's voice is louder, more full of promise and entitlement. It hastens to chase away any other ill feeling that is running through him.

"That is not your place to judge."

She sounds so resolute that he can't help but believe her. The slam of the door tells him she's ended the matter for him.

She starts walking as soon as her feet hit the cobbled stones where he stands and he takes up step right alongside her. She doesn't mention what just occurred, though they both know that if they'd expected anything different they would have been deluding themselves. People hold grudges; they can't all be as saintly and forgiving as Potter. It doesn't chill his bones the way he thinks it maybe should; he thinks it's a little sad, because it means he hardly expects much of his fellow citizen any more. He's losing hope in the Wizarding Community as a whole; which means he's doubting himself as well.

He isn't comfortable with mistrusting his own thoughts and feelings; because when everything else leaves him, all that's left is what he holds inside. And if he doesn't have that, he doesn't have anything.

He thinks he might hate the World a little more for making him feel this way. And then he remembers that he made them feel that way, in part. It makes him hate them some more as he wonders if he'll ever be allowed to roam free of the guilt they conjure at his every appearance or utterance.

They make their way along to _Twilfitt and Tatting's_ next, and while Daphne doesn't say anything, he catches sight of a familiar group of teenagers making their way into _Madame Malkin's _along the street. He knows he can't avoid the confrontation forever, especially since he will be returning to school in a matter of mere days, but he appreciates her effort at least. He can only imagine the scenes that would have been made, not to mention the words exchanged and the spells cast, had Astoria accompanied them.

In truth, he's not sure what he'll say to them when they finally do come face-to-face; but he's not sure if he hates Harry Potter and his little brigade of loyal followers more or less than he did during their younger years. How many times can someone save your life before you have to accept that they will always be a better person than you? That you will never hate them enough to make that disappear? That you cannot change the world's view of something, of some_one_, just by wishing it so?

The questions swirl around in his mind as the pair walk towards their next destination in a surprisingly comfortable silence. He shouldn't really be surprised; after all, Daphne is known as the approachable Greengrass, the mild-mannered, level-headed sister. He's always gotten on with her; even in his more rotten moments. It was Astoria who always hit him back with every cutting word he sent her way. He appreciates the diversity; but there's also striking similarities in the two. They are frighteningly loyal to one another; and it seems, to him also. Once he might have scoffed at the sentiment had he ackowledged it as fully as he just has; now Draco finds himself rather grateful for it.

Whether he will admit it outright or otherwise, he at least acknowledges that in this day-and-age, he does not have too many allies. And when someone offers him something more, like the Greengrass family, needless to say, he is not so stubborn as to refuse their assistance.

Besides, they do make for rather entertaining company. And Draco Malfoy has always loved to be entertained.

A witch attends to them as soon as they step inside and he sweeps his arm across the space before them to allow Daphne to go before him; he sees the soft smile curve at her lips almost instantly.

As the witch takes her measurements, the brunette hands the elder a piece of parchment with a scribble of letters and numbers on it; he recognises it instantly for what it is.

"And what colour of dress robes will dear Astoria be wearing this year?" Draco inquires on that note, smirking as he does so, almost like he can't help himself.

"She'll get what she's given," is Daphne's short reply. "And if she doesn't like them then I don't particularly care. She didn't want to come, so she doesn't get to choose her own."

"So she'll be returning to Hogwart's then," he deduces from the brunette's exasperated expression.

"Of course," she responds at once.

"Because _I_ was under the impression she wouldn't be joining us this year," Draco remarks then. "Given her little display earlier this morning – not to mention last night."

"My sister needs to learn that she can't always get her own way," is all Daphne says to that, and then turns on her heel and makes her way over to the racks that hold the female dress robes.

"That'll make for a scintillating train journey," he mutters to himself, before rolling his eyes: women – always with the dramatics.

He spies students from Hogwarts filing out of nearby shop doorways when they make their way to _Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop_ for some stationary supplies after their visit to the Apothecary. They seem to increase in number, or possibly just familiarity, as the pair walk along the cobbled street. He hasn't taken a step towards Knockturn Alley, something he is well aware of others having witnessed; he's not oblivious to the eyes that have been following his every move.

"I'm supposed to be meeting Theo in The Leaky Cauldron, but I'm sure he wouldn't mind if you joined us."

She is always so polite, Daphne – well, in general – mindful of other's opinions, at least. He supposes it's a trait she can turn to her advantage when moments like those of earlier occur.

He smirks at her, saying in an almost playful tone, "So, you _are_ seeing him then."

"I'm seeing him very shortly, if that's what you mean," she answers diplomatically. "Out-with that, I don't believe it's any of your business."

There is more hustle and bustle and he realises they are nearing her destination.

"Well, in that case," his lips are still quirked upwards on the left side, "I shall take my business back to your house."

Draco inclines his head towards Daphne, the smirk plain for her to see.

"Enjoy your drink," he remarks. "Say hello to Theo for me."

And with that, he Apparates away.

.

The tempest is still raging when she returns home. She can hear it echo down the hallway, culminating in the atrium in large loud strokes that welcome her arrival.

She sees Draco flying above the gardens when she ascends the grand marble staircase and looks out the large arch-window that accompanies her on her flight. Her grandfather is in the study, in the midst of a rather heated _debate_ with her younger sister.

It couldn't be clearer that Astoria doesn't want to return to Hogwarts. She understands why, of course, because she knows her sister. Astoria doesn't want to go back because she knows that they will be set upon and victimised by the others. What she doesn't understand; is why her sister is arguing so vehemently against it. Astoria has never had a problem defending herself or their House – often to her older sister's displeasure given some of the tactics the younger is prone to using. It strikes her as somewhat amiss that she would be so very against the idea of even trying to put their points across.

When Astoria storms off towards her bedroom having been told quite categorically by their grandfather that she will be returning to Hogwarts, Daphne naturally goes after her.

They're on the landing, when she finally spins round to face Daphne.

"Did you hear they've even built a memorial wall? It has all the names of the dead on it, engraved in that stone forever, for everyone to see," she spits contemptuously.

_Oh._

"How much d'you bet their names aren't up there?" the younger grits out. "How much d'you bet Mum and Dad haven't been included?"

Daphne reaches for her and, in a matter or moments, her little sister dissolves in her arms.

"What makes them any less victims of the War than the rest?" Astoria sheds tears into her sister's chest, while the elder holds her close, trying to soothe her cries.

Daphne looks over her sister's head and sees Draco standing at the top of the staircase watching them, windswept and ashen-faced.

She doubts he's ever seen her sister like this; she doesn't think anyone has, but her.

She thinks that it must be quite a sight to behold. For the younger's face is clear like her own: no red rings around her eyes or clues at missed hours of sleep, no tear-stained cheeks or blemishes on her skin. Astoria always was the best at performing _glamour _charms. It's not necessarily a talent Daphne admires in her sister, however, given that it ends up being near impossible to tell when something is bothering her unless she lets you know herself, or you spend enough time with her to be able to try and interpret her body language.

That thought scares her a little in itself. With that realization comes the frightening thought that if everyone thinks Astoria to be so indestructible, it's highly probably that she will be a target. And the younger will more than likely paint the bull's-eye herself, as she has a habit of doing. It adds to Daphne's own reasons for being apprehensive of their imminent return.

Astoria is unnerving; Daphne knows this better than anyone. She can read a situation, a person, extremely well; and when she stares right into another's eyes, commenting on it or not, it throws people off their guard. It is a defence tactic. One that tends to have unpredictable results.

Her sister is far more hot-headed than she is; which can lead her into more damaging situations than Astoria would ever likely admit. Both sisters are very deliberate with their words, but while Daphne tends to think over the consequences and the impact they will cause, Astoria has a tendency to let her tongue run away with her; and it can be especially cutting, even when she doesn't necessarily will it so.

It is one of the main reasons she fears for her little sister in the upcoming year at Hogwarts. Much has changed at the school; the War has indeed altered things, but Daphne is all too aware of the deepening in prejudice and hatred that they will no doubt face once they step through those doors. Many have lost relatives, friends; and she can understand how others want to hold her House accountable; but she will not stand by and let this belief run unimpeded.

The actions of a few turned a whole school against them; reversed all she had been trying to do in that past year, and she will be damned if she lets them forget what they all faced, together, during that time.

She doesn't want glory, or even real recognition; what she wants is acceptance, tolerance. She wants acknowledgment that not all of those in Slytherin are bad, that not all of them are responsible; that they were simply victims of consequence, all of them.

She wants Hogwarts to appreciate that they are all just children, trying to live together in an adult-influenced environment that holds so many beliefs that they couldn't possibly please everyone.

Most of all, though, Daphne just wants them to see that progress can never truly be made if Slytherin House is always made to play the villain in a school full of victims.

Appreciation is needed.

Acceptance is needed.

Tolerance is needed.

To move on, there needs to be a reformation.

She's just not sure who'll be there to see it through.

.

It had never been a surprise to Astoria that her sister was chosen as Head Girl; nor that when Hermione Granger returned the title was stripped from Daphne like she'd done nothing for the students in the school in their greatest time of need.

The teachers in their school have favoured Gryffindors over any other House for as long as she has been in attendance, and she suspects, a fair bit longer than that. It's not her being jealous, and it's not because Slytherin and Gryffindor have a greater rivalry of any other in the school; it's because she watches, listens. It's because it's true.

Daphne is smart enough that Astoria knows she could have been placed in Ravenclaw and fitted in seamlessly there; but her steadfast loyalty and cunning resourcefulness is something that runs in the family, and they overrule any form of academia. So Slytherin was the natural course for the two Greengrass sisters; self-preservation is high among their peers. It's why she won't be surprised when she returns to Hogwarts to find the majority of her house disbanded.

She knows, as well as her sister, why Draco was given Head Boy position. Professor Snape and he were always close, but she hasn't exactly been oblivious to the opposition his family have come up against – both then and now. If anything, the Dark Lord's return to power only served to make it more obvious. It was about protection.

Professor Snape's influence within the Dark Lord's ranks, not to mention his appointment as Headmaster, could only take Draco so far; but within the confines of the Head dormitories, and with a witch such as Daphne Greengrass standing next to him; he was safer than he could be anywhere else.

Slytherins excel at looking out for themselves and their own; self-preservation is also a healthy trait to possess in a time of War. And she's beginning to think she'll need it as much now as she did then.

The War may have ended, but that doesn't mean the punishment will stop. And she is fully aware of how Slytherin will fall in this scenario. She just hates how hypocritical it all is; how they'll feel justified and _right_.

If the government is as free of corruption as they now claim to be in the wake of their rigorous cleansing, and if the Wizarding World has undertaken a new way of thinking, of treating its fellow citizens; then there would be no one to settle personal scores, to dish out vendettas of their own making.

If life as she knows it really has changed then she will feel its full force first-hand.

She will be on the front lines.

And she won't back down without a fight.

.

**_TBC…_**

* * *

A/N: I'm not sure if all the chapters will be this long – most likely not – my fingers just run away with themselves sometimes.

Ok, I've been asked a few times about the 'glamour'. I actually thought it was a charm mentioned in the series, basically for altering your appearance/concealing something about yourself, but I can't seem to find anything concrete about it, so I reckon I likely jus meshed some other spells/charms together lol – I imagine there must be something like it that exists though, because seriously what looks-obsessed teenage witch or wizard would have spots or bad tan lines or whatever, when they have magic at their disposal which could 'fix' such things and save them from the hassle and embarrassment and the like?  
So yeah, I'm keeping it in there, and that's basically what it is. It allows you to conceal something about your physical appearance and 'glamours' – i.e. tricks – other people into thinking that is what you truly look like. And for the purposes of this fic, Draco neglected to consistently use them in Sixth Year (like when Harry noticed he had bags under his eyes and his skin had a grey-ish tint) because he was too preoccupied with other matters, but he did use them fairly often and he's been living in very close-quarters with the Greengrass family, which is why he guesses/knows Daphne is using one.  
Sorry for that long-drawn out explanation.

Thanks for reading, and please let me know what you think – it means a lot!  
Steph  
xxx


	4. Ch3:We Didn't Make This Bed

A/N: apologies for the delay, I had a crazy-busy week, which I hadn't anticipated at all.  
Also, this chapter is quite long – and a bit different from the others I think, only because my fingers got a little carried away with themselves when typing a certain part.

Hope you enjoy…

* * *

Chapter Three: We Didn't Make This Bed, But You're Making Us Lie In It

"_When we are struck at without reason, we should strike back again very hard; I am sure we should – so hard as to teach the person who struck us never to do it again."  
**Charlotte Bronte, 'Jane Eyre'**_

.

Astoria's been terse all day; like a ticking time bomb. One of the reasons Draco suspects her sister has her under carriage-arrest. Naturally, they're all taken to be accomplices in Daphne's endeavour, so the younger is just _thrilled _to be in their company as well.

"Daphne, this is ridiculous," the brunette announces after a short bout of quiet. "I'm going to have to mingle with the masses at some point, and besides, I need to go to the bathroom."

The elder relents after a moment, but warns her not to "start anything". The blue-eyed teenager scoffs at this: Astoria doesn't start things; she just finishes them. As opposed to Daphne, who prefers to do neither, if she can help it.

The carriage doesn't quake quite as much when Astoria isn't in it, Draco finds, but then it's also ludicrously dull.

When the brunette has been gone for some time, it is Blaise who casually stands and exits the carriage. He doesn't say where he's going or why, but it is apparent. Daphne sends a grateful smile his way, all too aware of what he has undertaken; off to search an entire train full of hostiles to find a girl who has excelled at any form of hide-and-seek since she was barely three-years-old. It's as if living in the shadows is just in her blood, an innate characteristic that Astoria holds within herself that is so instinctual she barely registers its use anymore. He sometimes wonders if it's a trait that Daphne herself holds as well, only she has better self-control than her sister. It's a moot point either way because Draco can remember quite plainly every time Daphne sought him or Blaise or any of them out to help her locate Astoria, and he can't recall ever once having to _track down_ the elder of the two sisters.

He supposes Hogwarts and its occupants have been cruel to them all over the years. They've each learned to adapt in their own way. And while Daphne always seems to try to minimise damage or settle matters with facts and intelligence and well-thought out processes; Astoria, for her part, forever seems to be skirting the edges, into the light then back to the dark, only to throw herself right into the heat of it all whenever the desire takes her. It makes for some very interesting family _debates_ in the common room. It also makes them such captivating character subjects to study; sisters till the end, so similar in many respects, and yet complete opposites with exceptionally clear-cut differences at the very same time.

It's a trait Greengrasses have held for generations: they're utterly unpredictable. In everything but family, because _that _is something that can be easily relied upon to gain a reaction.

In many ways he thinks they're like his own family; like many Pureblood families. Except it's more than just bloodlines to them, more than just a family tree; more than just kin or maker and child: it is their way of life, their very being. It is what makes them who they are.

And if nothing else, he is in awe of that.

.

"She's coming back," Theo directs towards the elder Greengrass.

He turns back round, not to face the group, although all eyes are undoubtedly on him after that, but to look to the female that he may or may not be _dating_. Draco's pretty certain it's the former.

"And she appears to be in one-piece," he adds with a soft smile; that it's reserved solely for Daphne is obvious.

Draco can hear her breathe a quiet sigh of relief; there's less tension to fill the space already.

"Blaise's just behind her," is the extra piece of information Theo gives, because search-and-recover Astoria Greengrass-style 'missions' can result in anything.

The door is ajar and they hear Astoria's footsteps grow nearer, joined by the heavier ones of the tall male behind her, but it is a female voice he doesn't recognise that suddenly resounds off their walls.

"So, it's true then," the unknown girl says; and her derisive tone couldn't be clearer. "You're actually back."

There are likely more occupants in their carriage than any other; those with no choice but to unite against a school that's hated them from the moment the Sorting Hat uttered the name of their housing.

He barely has to crane his neck to see that it's one against three out there. They never have an advantage; apparently nothing has changed.

He wonders if his suspicions will be confirmed in this very moment; that the Great War has taught the children of Hogwarts and their parents nothing.

Another of the girls speaks then, sneering at the young brunette, with her arms crossed over her chest and a judgmental little look on her face, "Nothing in there but cowards and murderers and – "

_Stupid, insolent girl_, is all Draco thinks, his eyes moving from one Greengrass sister to the next.

It is moments like this that fuel his hatred towards all those others that this trio of teenage girls represent, because they are so very ignorant. They truly know nothing of the War, of what it cost both sides.

He finds his thoughts displayed quite evidently across Astoria's face. It is Blaise, however, who responds.

"And where were _you_ when the Battle was raging? Killing a Death Eater of your own? Or running home to Mummy and Daddy?" he grits out venomously, and the girls shrink back in tandem at his tone.

He pushes past the duo, nudging the younger until she finally turns on her heel and storms ahead of him into the compartment, without so much as a backward glance as the door slams shut behind them.

_BANG!_

There is a rush of clothing and hurried footsteps, a blur of mahogany as a fuming Astoria Greengrass barrels into the otherwise tranquil carriage.

"That – she – "

Apparently all accounts of eloquence have left her at this moment; a feat not as easily achieved as some might assume.

Draco doesn't imagine he was alone in expecting her to have hit the girl, or at least thrown a hex in her direction. He supposes they all presume too much of each other at times.

"What's happened?" Daphne asks calmly, assuring her, "If it's about what those girls said just a moment ago, rest assured I will be reporting them to their Head of House."

"No, no," Astoria mutters at that. "No, it's – "

She drags her hands through her dark locks, wild around her head. A smirk twists Draco's lips as he watches this: tiny hands, tiny feet.

"It's that – annoying – stupid-haired – interfering – _bitch_!" is the strangled, infuriated reply moments later.

Her older sister blinks slowly. "I see. And who's done what now to cause this little _outburst_ in our beloved star, hmm?"

Astoria's blue eyes harden somewhat and it is then that Draco, and he suspects just about everyone else as well, notices the slight flexing movement of the younger girl's hand, the bloody knuckles and broken skin. He releases a low groan.

Then again, there's a reason they presume such things.

"You've hit someone, haven't you?" Theo is the one to speak, to put the realisation to words. Sometimes he really shouldn't.

The younger Slytherin meets the other boy's eyes for the briefest of moments before looking away, resuming her task of pacing the length of the carriage.

Blaise lets out his own groan at this: he'll have his own punishment for returning the goods as _damaged_; for letting her get that way in the first place. It's how the Greengrasses work: blame is laid to those who take responsibility for the charge, because if you can't handle the task you shouldn't take it in the first place.

It does make sense in a very Slytherin, Pureblood, way. It also makes sense in a Greengrass way, in a familial way. And besides, expectations come with every bloodline; you accept this when you ally yourself with them. Draco suspects even a _Hufflepuff_ could comprehend that one; and he barely thinks of them as competent at all, when he does think of them that is, and that is an extremely rare occurrence in itself. He expects that this is something he might have to alter, however, because after all, War changes people. The Final Battle may be over, but they're still dealing with the aftermath; and people can be especially determined in the fallout. In case there was any doubt; the trials played proof to the theory. Slytherin became synonymous with Pureblood even more than before and Pureblood was nigh on tantamount to evil, villain, the _bad _side. He hardly expects things to change when they step through the doors of Hogwarts. If anything: confined within those walls, with magic allowed to run free, and personal-bias swaying opinion, Draco expects it'll be worse.

Daphne suddenly seems to take note of what Theo has actually said then and after the bulging of eyes, she instantly demands, "Who?"

Draco catches the way the younger seems to bite her lip; they're not going to like her answer.

"What were you thinking?" is the question that follows almost instantaneously.

Astoria's steely blue eyes narrow as she replies scathingly, "I guess I _wasn't_ thinking. Isn't that what you usually presume of me during these situations?"

Daphne lets out a deep breath at this, saying quietly, "Only because that's usually the only sane explanation I can come up with to rationalise your actions."

"Hey!" a new voice suddenly breaks in then; he's yet to decide if this is a welcome interruption or not. It can really go either way where the Greengrass sisters are concerned.

The slam of the door resounds behind the two additions as they step fully into the carriage.

"We heard about it from all the way up the front of the train!" is the next exclamation, and they are all well aware of exactly _who _is the source. Dignali Harper is still the same impressionable boy they met all those years ago when he took that fateful seat next to Astoria after the Sorting.

Apparently, his younger sister takes after him in that respect, since Undine immediately joins in with, "You really did a number on her! Granger's still trying to stop the bleeding!"

"I _told_ you you'd be able to more than hold your own as a Beater," the younger boy tells Astoria, directing both his words and his grin towards his friend.

Draco has to resist scoffing at this, as apparently do the others. Everyone knows Astoria is raring to play Chaser for the Slytherin team. Going out on that field as a Beater, while she might be fully capable, would be like the consolation prize. And Astoria Greengrass, like any respectable Greengrass, does not settle for less than the best.

A small smirk appears on Astoria's face as she catches the eyes of Harper's little sister before Undine tells her brother, "That's only because you're afraid of being outshined on that pitch by a girl – and you know she'd do just that."

"The Head Girl!" Daphne cries out. "Of _all_ people!"

The scream the elder Greengrass near elicits in accompaniment to her tone of sheer disbelief ceases any further chatter.

"You couldn't have found someone else to antagonise on our first day back, _aside_ from the one person who probably has more influence over the teachers in this school than Harry-bleedin'-Potter himself?"

"She didn't hit Granger, she hit the Weasley girl, Ginny," the younger Harper enlightens them, blinking up at Daphne like she can't understand where she'd ever have gotten that idea from.

Draco barely resists the urge to roll his eyes. Honestly, these girls and their _dramatics_.

"You didn't hit Granger?" the elder breathes out, eyeing her sister with slight suspicion.

"I know!" Harper cries out, throwing his hands up like his whole planned takeover has been crushed because of this one play of Astoria's. "It's not _nearly _as entertaining when you find _that _out!" He drops his arms and his palms slap the outside of his legs with the rush of a sigh, before he tilts his head and appears to be mulling over what happened, voicing, "Then again, I can't say I'm not pleased someone finally smacked that annoying ginger bint..."

"Why ever didn't you just say that?" Daphne suddenly demands, averting her gaze from her sister to her sister's friend and shaking her head at the girl's apparent lack of common sense, before shooting another look at the boy encouraging such behaviour of the younger as she notes, "That's not _nearly _as bad as hitting Hermione Granger."

"Ah, but Weasley _is _Potter's girlfriend." It is the elder Harper who is doing the informing now, after his sister's moment to shine earlier, and his finger points to the sky as he pierces the air with his words. "And I can't imagine Granger's _boyfriend_ will be too enamoured by the sight of his _little sister's_ disfigured face staring back at him either."

"It _was_ quite a hard hit," the boy's own sister then directs at Astoria, and Undine seemingly has no qualms about flashing her brother's friend a proud little grin. She clearly idolises the older girl; Draco thinks Harper should have the girl's head checked, but then, he also thinks Harper should have his own head checked, so maybe it runs in the family.

"_Quite_ a hard hit?" Harper voices, incredulously, throwing a scoff at his little sister. "Granger had performed two Scourgify's by the time we'd left and she still hadn't cleared all the blood away. I'd be surprised if you escaped without any broken digits."

Astoria ducks her head at this statement, a small smile peaking through, as she unconsciously flexes her hand a little, hiding a wince.

"Something wrong with good old-fashioned magic, Greengrass?" Draco inquires at that, with a slight smirk and raising a pale eyebrow in question, which she promptly responds to by throwing a glare his way.

"Would you lot stop encouraging her?" Daphne cries in exasperation. "Honestly, it's no wonder she does this sort of thing, when this is the reaction she receives."

"I am here you know." Astoria clears her throat, mildly peeved.

The elder whirls around, and sets a steady gaze on her sister, with the words, "Yes, and here is where you shall stay for the remainder of the journey, but only _after_ you have told me _exactly_ what happened."

Astoria holds the stare for a short while, before rolling her eyes, and releasing a sigh.

"Outside. Now," Daphne instructs, and pushes past the occupants standing in her way; closing the door firmly behind her sister after she exits.

Theo flicks his wand in the direction of the door, muffling any sound coming through and causing the blind to shoot down to cover the windowpane.

Groans resound around the carriage at this, but the older students ignore it, choosing instead to return to their previous activities. They've witnessed enough family spats between the two girls over the years; and generally, if someone doesn't do it, Daphne will and then she'll shout at them for not respecting her privacy after she's done shouting at her sister for whatever it is Astoria has done. It's really just easier to leave the siblings to their own affairs, except being their houseguest over summer has changed things for him; now he has a vested interest that wasn't present before.

.

After recounting what happened to her sister, Astoria re-enters the carriage and takes a seat in the empty place by the window opposite Blaise. Daphne informs the boys, or more specifically _Theo_, that she is going to try and find Granger, telling him, "I'm going to try smooth things over before they reach such heights that we can't turn back."

"Ah, that's our Daphne, ever the diplomat," Blaise remarks with a shake of the head and his hand over his heart; the smirk crossing his lips dictating his tone.

Astoria rolls her eyes, but says nothing.

"She does realise that she's not Head Girl anymore, right?" Harper speaks a few moments after.

"'Course she does, you dolt," his little sister responds matter-of-factly. "She's just doing what she does best, ye know, trying to settle the waves."

She laughs at that, figuring she might as well capitalise on her sister's absence while she can, and shares a smile with Undine as she says, "Two galleons on her ruffling some feathers while she does it."

Harper raises an eyebrow at that; he's always sceptical of her, he really shouldn't be.

Astoria just smirks, holding out her hands, palms up; like she's innocent of all her friend is wordlessly charging her with. "Hey! I had to learn it from somewhere!"

She catches sight of Theo as he rolls his eyes at this, while Harper smiles smugly and shakes her outstretched hand taking the bet.

He spends the next half an hour trying to bounce ideas off the others on what exactly Daphne will do and what exactly Astoria herself _did_, and apparently more importantly, discover _why _she did whatever she did. It seems the brunette needs a justifiable reason these days to fly off the handle, even to Slytherins. She releases a short laugh at that, thinking: _my, my, how things are changing_.

She tunes him out as she takes in the blurring scenery that goes rushing by, burning into her retinas in a near-overwhelming blend of green, as her mind rushes back to what happened with Granger and Weasley.

**"I thought we made it perfectly clear last year that you weren't welcome here anymore," the female in the centre snapped, effectively halting the brunette's movements.**

**Astoria turned slowly, her eyes a steely blue as she clocked the trio standing before her.**

"**And I thought **_**I'd**_** made it clear that **_**you**_** don't warrant any of **_**my**_** attention. You don't even exist to me. You're just a few bugs that buzzed around my ear until they had to be swatted," was her biting reply.**

**The girl on the right was clearly the centre's counterpart; identical features not difficult to recognise. She laughed, somewhat nervously, and said, "You didn't swat us, Astoria."**

**Astoria shrugged and leaned in closer to the trio. "Come closer, maybe I will," she murmured menacingly.**

**The next thing that was heard from the carriage was a high-pitched squeal, just as the door slid open to reveal Hermione Granger, who entered the corridor almost instantaneously.**

"**What's going on in here?" the Gryffindor demanded. "I am the Head Girl and you will tell me what just occurred here."**

**No one spoke up.**

"**Well?" the elder prompted, impatiently looking between the members of the group, clearly irritated with the four of them already.**

"_**Astoria**_** was blocking our path, and we were just trying to ask her to move when she drew her wand on us and started towards us like she was about to hex us all," the girl who was standing in the centre told Granger, her voice full of innocence and fear.**

**The Head Girl nodded for her to continue, remaining silent as she listened to the younger.**

**And then with a show of carefully practiced outrage and shock, the blonde continued, exclaiming, "And then she swished her wand, and I was hit with some sort of hex! Right across my cheek!"**

"**And who knows what it was! It could've been some form of Dark Arts for all we know!" her twin joined in with her then.**

**Astoria scoffed at this, which only seemed to heighten their performances.**

"**Look! Look what she did to my face! Look how she marred my cheek! I'll probably be permanently scarred now!" the blonde cried out, and then threw herself into the seat behind with a dramatic sigh, face in her hands.**

"**And you must know about what happened last year. She kills plants! For Merlin's sake, she's dangerous!" her identical twin continued.**

**The Head Girl soon discovered their names: Judith, Jacqueline and Febronia. They were in Hufflepuff and in the same year as Astoria. And a lovely little trio they made too.**

"**She should never have been allowed back in," was the frosty addition by the third girl. "None of them should."**

**Everyone knew to whom she was referring.**

**Febronia; with hair that was almost jet-black it seemed like the only thing that set her apart from her counterparts, apparently despised Astoria even more than the blonde twins. Not an easy feat, from what the Slytherin had deduced from her **_**encounters **_**with the trio.**

**Astoria stepped forward, arms clenched at her sides, staring venomously at the three of them.**

"**Alright, girls, that's enough," was Granger's stern warning at that.**

**The Gryffindor then turned her attention to the scowling girl nearest her, swiftly putting a stop to the smug looks of the others with a raise of the eyebrow.**

"**And what is your name?" Granger asked of her.**

**The younger slowly dragged her gaze up to meet the Head Girl's and answered simply, "Astoria Greengrass."**

"**House?" came the next prompt.**

"**Slytherin," was the reply; she practically hissed as she said it.**

"**Right," the elder took note. "And is this true? Did you assault these girls?"**

**Astoria set her gaze on the Gryffindor then, and asked coolly, "What do **_**you **_**think?"**

**And that was when Ginny Weasley appeared next to the Head Girl, directing a smile towards her friend as they greeted one another briefly.**

**The redhead moved to leave the elder to attend to her duties when the sight of the seething look on Astoria's face and the thinly veiled identical ones adorning the features of the three Hufflepuff girls she knew to be in the year below her, seemed to intrigue her enough to stop her in her tracks.**

"**What's going on here?" Weasley inquired.**

"**Look, they've already said, do we really have to rehash it to every person who comes by?" Astoria said; she was already miffed by the whole affair, never mind the fact that she'd been **_**caught**_**, she didn't particularly want to have to answer to **_**Ginny Weasley**_** of all people as well. "Now, I didn't do anything, my wand's right here, as you can plainly see, and there is no 'assault weapon' in sight. Her cheek's barely red, it's probably just that stupid make-up she cakes on in that ridiculous manner, and she's trying to pin it on me – **_**as usual**_**."**

**Astoria shot a look at the trio when she finished, before turning back to Hermione.**

"**Now, can you just give me my punishment, take away house points or give me a detention or whatever it is that you Gryffindor's **_**do**_** whenever a Slytherin is accused of something, so I can leave?" she asked, and then shot a disdainful look at the three girls who still insisted on standing too close to her for her likely. "I think I'm beginning to adopt a smell hanging around these three, and I'd really rather it didn't linger for any longer than it must – not pleasant at all, I assure you."**

**She flashed the trio a dazzling smile, and they huffed and puffed and looked ready to lunge right for her; it took a resounding amount of willpower not to laugh in their faces.**

"**I'm afraid I can't do that," Granger informed her. "I need to investigate this matter a little more. Your punishment, should it be proven that you did indeed do as you are accused, will be decided after. Now could I please see your wand?"**

**The Slytherin narrowed her eyes slightly and looked set to refuse, her grip tightening around the thin sliver of wood, before she finally relented, ignoring a certain Gryffindor's amused eyebrow raise at her actions, and thrust her wand into the older girl's outstretched hand.**

"**Thank you," Granger awarded the younger for her trouble.**

**As the Head Girl began to perform a few routine manoeuvres to determine what spell had last been cast from the wand, the redhead took the opportunity to sidle up to the brunette.**

"**Been causing trouble already, Astoria? Tut tut, what would big sis say to that, hmm?" It wasn't difficult to recognise that the lower-rank Gryffindor was baiting the other girl; the amused look on her face evidence enough of the fact.**

"**Buzz off Weasley, I'm not in the mood to be the centre of your games at the moment. In case you haven't noticed, I'm already the prize in this trio's – and I can't please everyone, **_**sorry**_**," Astoria replied, half-glaring at the other girl; seriously, it wasn't enough that she had to deal with those twits from Hufflepuff, now she had the Gryffindor ragging on at her as well.**

"**Shame. Though you've never really been one to **_**please**_**, have you Astoria? Doubt you-know-who was **_**pleased**_** with you during the Battle of Hogwarts," Weasley mused, locking eyes with the smaller girl as soon as she whirled around.**

"**What's it to **_**you**_**, what I did during the Battle, Weasley?" Astoria questioned coldly, eyes narrowed.**

**The Head Girl moved quickly then to intervene, but she wasn't quite quick enough against the prized Chaser of Gryffindor.**

"**My brother **_**died**_** in that Battle, you little harpy," was the redhead's seething reply. "And so did loads of my friends."**

"**And what? Just because I'm a Slytherin means I had something to do with it? Give me a break, Weasley; I fought on **_**your**_** side. No doubt, you'd have me aiming for my own sister as she stood next to me if you had your way," Astoria hissed back.**

**The Gryffindor's eyes narrowed. "If that's what you think, it's only because you're the one who's made it that way."**

"**Yes, of course, because I **_**chose**_** to be ostracised from the rest of my school when I was **_**eleven years old**_**. I **_**chose**_** to be bullied and judged by teachers and pupils alike from my first day here, because of who my predecessors were. I **_**chose**_** to have the rest of my house abandon me and my home after our Headmistress all but dismissed us as a lost cause because of the acts of **_**one**_** person."**

**Her face was mere inches from the other girl's, despite the height difference, her eyes narrowed, chest heaving. **

"**Look a little closer to home for who to blame next time, Weasley. Slytherin's have been made to play the villains in a school full of **_**victims**_** for a wee bit too long, don't you think? And we certainly didn't get there on our own, either."**

**The redhead's expression looked positively murderous; the irony didn't escape her.**

"**After all, Gryffindor's are nothing if not wonderful examples of leadership," Astoria snapped, whirling round, and snatching her wand suddenly from the Head Girl's hand as she stood back in a moment of shock. She ignored the sparks that had just shot out of it and instead stalked off. If she'd actually wanted to wound **_**Judith**_** any, she'd have just cancelled her incoming mail; everyone knew the girl would be a lost cause without her precious make-up.**

"**You will report to Gryffindor tower for detention at 9pm sharp," the Head Girl shouted after her. "And I will be informing Professor Slughorn of this."**

"**Well, the only thing in Slytherin is murderers and traitors," was the redhead's call to her, however, as she took a bold step forward after the brunette. "And we **_**are**_** victims, and you **_**are**_** villains – and until you stop trying to kill us all, that's the way it will stay."**

**Astoria ignored the audible gasp from the older Gryffindor and the reprimand of, "Ginny!"**

**In an instant she had spun round, and was in front of Weasley, her fist flying towards the other girl's face faster and harder than either could ever have fathomed.**

"**You know **_**nothing**_** of what makes a victim," Astoria hissed venomously, sending a chill through the Gryffindor's very core, before turning on her heel and storming away, leaving chaos in her wake.**

**And all the Head Girl could do was watch the retreating figure while she tried to stem the blood slipping between her best friend's fingers.**

**One of the girls next to them apparently caught sight of the blood and promptly threw up, while another had fainted, barely supported in her sister's waif-like arms.**

**Astoria drew a deep sigh as she walked away and wondered if the rest of the year would be as confrontational. Despite what she knew would be public opinion, she didn't actually want that; she just didn't like being blamed for things that weren't her fault, never mind completely out-with her control. And she certainly didn't like when people spoke of things they had no knowledge about.**

**She wondered if she mightn't have been better off had Daphne been placed into Ravenclaw. All that information and knowledge could've led them to something better; or at least taken her sister some**_**place **_**better.**

**Knowledge is power after all.**

**Maybe that was why the elder was in Slytherin; she held the power.**

**That thought alone allowed Astoria to calm somewhat, just in time to see a familiar figure appear before her.**

**She clasped her hands behind her back and greeted Blaise with a wide smile as she strode towards him. He took up step a few paces behind her and allowed her lead the way, wand still in hand.**

**He didn't comment on it, and she smiled. Astoria might have trusted her sister to get them through this, but that didn't mean she wasn't going to be prepared for any immediate occurrences that happened **_**before**_** Daphne harnessed all that power and used it to save them.**

**She was a Slytherin, after all, and self-preservation was always top priority.**

**Besides, who'd leave a mutinous environment on the streets only to get struck down by the deadly lifestyle confined within a castle?**

**They weren't stupid, they knew it wouldn't be an easy road; but such was their world.**

She's drawn from her reverie when she feels a hand reach over and take hers, cool to the touch. The blood disappears and the skin starts to reform across her bones, their crunching and clicking signifying their own mending and realignment.

She doesn't see anyone else as she turns to look at him with a question in her eyes.

"It was unsightly. I did you a favour," he answers only to her.

He drops her hand from its place in his, and shoves his wand back in his pocket.

"You should be bloody thanking me, not judging me," he says then.

She smirks at this, knowing he'll cast it up to her later and claim she _owes_ him because of it.

Astoria can see the slight twitching of his lips before it seems to blur with the world outside at her whisper of, "_Thank you, Draco_."

.

**_TBC…_**

* * *

A/N: apologies for the lack of Daphne/Astoria – I promise more variation in parts from the next chapter onwards.  
Also, apologies if you feel any characters were OOC.  
Ginny, I used, for obvious reasons here. She has a fiery personality, and I feel that the effects of the War would still be ricocheting through her and her family; especially if the Trials are ongoing as I imagine they would be. And people deal with Grief and War in different ways.  
Point to note, for future reference: This is not a Ginny or Gryffindor-bashing story. However, since I _am_ writing from a Slytherin POV, it might appear that way at some stages.  
Also, I doubt most other chapters will be as long, but I could be wrong haha

Thanks so much for reading – please let me know what you think, it means a lot!  
Steph  
xxx


	5. Ch4: Borrowed Time

Chapter Four: Borrowed Time

_"Men are rewarded and punished not for what they do, but rather for how their acts are defined. This is why men are more interested in better justifying themselves than in better behaving themselves."_  
**_Thomas Szasz_**

.

When Daphne finally has a chance to speak to Hermione Granger, it is as she is standing at the Hallway entrance, overseeing the other students as they file inside.

"I hear you met my sister," she remarks when she is side-by-side with the other girl.

The Head Girl whirls her head around to see who is standing beside her, the flicker of her eyes giving away her instant recognition as to the identity of the brunette.

"Yes," she responds with a terse nod, before clearing her throat and explaining, "A group of Hufflepuff girls accused her of casting a spell that caused them physical harm. This turned out to be false; although I'm sure something did occur before I arrived on the scene, however, she did then she assault a 6th year Prefect."

"Ginny Weasley," Daphne fills in.

The Gryffindor simply nods.

"From what I hear, she was provoked," she says then, almost conversationally.

Her eyes remain on the lines of students before them, although Daphne catches sight of the other girl turning to look at her as she says those words.

"In both situations," the brunette adds, with a slight smile, glancing at the Gryffindor as she does so.

"That is neither here nor there. She was found doing wrong, and now she has to suffer the consequences," The Head Girl tells her, appearing quite affronted by this whole encounter.

"Whose?" Daphne questions then.

"Excuse me?" The Gryffindor asks, her brow furrowing in slight confusion.

"That is to say, will my sister be suffering the consequences of Hermione Granger, Head Girl, as a student who simply did wrong and must undertake the repercussions of such actions – Fair and just, that I've no doubt they would be?"

Daphne turns away from the other students then to face her.

"Or the consequences of a Gryffindor survivor who fought on the front line and watched friend after friend fall to the enemy right before her eyes; as a Slytherin who should never have been spared and should be punished for the sins of her peers, because it will be nothing if not what a filthy snake deserves?"

The Head Girl flounders for a moment, opening her mouth to respond before snapping it shut once more.

"I don't disagree that she has to incur some form of punishment for her actions," the Slytherin remarks then. "But that is all she should be punished for."

She looks up and meets the Gryffindor's eyes, and pauses.

"You can't blame us for everything," Daphne says then.

And before the other can even gather her thoughts enough to answer properly and coherently, she disappears in a swirl of darkness.

.

Astoria is sitting across from him, doing her best not to look at him. Blaise doesn't seem bothered, not that _that_ would ever really stop him, but Theo raises his eyebrow at him in silent question. Draco doesn't respond, with words or otherwise, and instead allows a smirk to slowly creep up to grace his features.

Daphne joins them when nearly all of the other students have taken their seats, and fills the space by her sister's side. He imagines Astoria might have concocted it to be just so; because it is easier to focus her attention elsewhere, away from her sister, if she doesn't have to look at her every time she raises her head from her meal. The corner of his lip curls higher with this thought; instead Astoria will have to contend with looking up at him. He does so love to rile her; she makes it impossibly easy at times.

Professor Flitwick leads the first years into the Great Hall and a hush falls over the students. Draco looks to Theo who is smirking back at him; Blaise looks utterly bored with the whole thing already. Across from him Astoria doesn't even try to stifle her laughter until Daphne sends her a dark look, and she puts her hand up to her mouth to muffle the sound somewhat. It is an amusing sight: the small being led by the even smaller, made even more humorous by the fact that the petite brunette across from him seems to find it one of the funniest things she's ever seen.

He'd harbour a guess that the gaggle of eleven-year-olds waiting to be Sorted is the tiniest arrangement ever admitted to Hogwarts; but supposed imminent threats of death and danger in Britain have apparently caused many families to emigrate – _flee_ – abroad over the past year, so it makes sense many of them would seek schooling abroad rather than return to attend Hogwarts. Draco would've been shot of the whole thing himself if he'd had his way, but he is nothing if not an obedient son.

The Sorting Hat is brought forward and placed on the stool before them all, where its brim promptly opens to sing this song:

_I told you all before, yes, I warned you all indeed,_

_Of your need for strong house unity, which you did not fully heed._

_Hard-workers from dear Hufflepuff found their loyalty was proven,_

_When wise Ravenclaw stood by them side-by-side and seeds were duly woven._

_Beside them were the Gryffindors, each brave unto the end,_

_But where art thou the Slytherins, who alone were left to fend?_

_I warned you, yes, I told you, but you did not take it all,_

_And I fear now to split you will forever build a wall._

_But I am the Sorting Hat and the deed I must fulfil,_

_To quarter you all up, whatever be my will._

_But I beseech you all right now, to be something much prudent,_

_Embrace all other houses and become a __**Hogwarts**__ Student._

Silence falls over the Great Hall at this and the Sorting begins. Hufflepuff gains the most number of new first-years, with some going to Ravenclaw, and even less being placed in Gryffindor; it isn't difficult to see who the minority is, though.

'Kinsey, Killion' is the first person to be put in Slytherin and a deathly silence overcomes the Hall as the Sorting Hat calls its decision.

Astoria is the first to clap, the loudest and most purposeful. Blaise slaps his hands together with complete disdain and his lip curls in the direction of the Gryffindor table who, it seems, have been staring at them since they entered. He and Theo join in almost in sync with the rest, and he pretends not to know that this boy will be tormented as soon as he takes a step towards them; pretends not to know that this boy has most likely already gained nicknames from those around him; pretends not to know that this is actually how it has always been, that this treatment is nothing new.

Two other boys, Jeremy Knox and Osric Sheridan, join him; but they are the only ones, and after the last child is placed in Ravenclaw, the feast begins.

A short while later their new Headmistress stands to address them all.

"This is not a normal school year," Professor McGonagall says. "As a result of last year, many of you had little or no study of the work expected of you. Others may have completed some, but this is by no means considered sufficient enough to gain entry into your next year, nevermind pass your exams."

Draco doesn't think he's the only one who barely resists scoffing at this whole statement.

"The years will be grouped together, depending on the level of work required," she informs them next. "And I would hope that you would do your best to cooperate with these changes."

He sees their youngest additions looking along the table at them, almost like they'll gain the answers to whatever questions they have through the silence of simply observing their elders. He supposes it might work, although they'll likely find them out far more quickly when the first jeer is sent their way.

"This year will be difficult. Last year was trying… for all of us," and she casts a glance over to the Gryffindor table specifically at this; it is an act that certainly doesn't go unnoticed by Draco, or his fellow Slytherins. "But I am hopeful that together we can rebuild Hogwarts to what it once was, within its own walls."

He'd say eleven is too young to be subjected to such hatred, but nothing's changed; and it began much younger for most of them anyway. They should've been prepared, and those returning are; only a few really expect a change.

"Our new Head Boy and Girl this year, are Hermione Granger of Gryffindor, and Ernie Macmillan of Hufflepuff," Professor McGonagall announces.

There is an expected onslaught of clapping and wolf-whistles.

"They will be replacing Draco Malfoy and Daphne Greengrass of Slytherin, who I'm sure you'll all agree did a commendable job last year," the Headmistress continues.

Bodies turn and suddenly it's like all eyes in the entire space have trained on the two of them. Daphne smiles politely and nods in recognition at a few who look her way. Draco's lip curls; his brow narrowing, and some retract at his coldness, before he finds a familiar group of students staring at him. It is a mere moment later that he finds his view blocked, and by way of happening theirs is too. He raises his head a fraction, his chin still jutting out in defiance, and finds his eyes locking onto the determined blue gaze of Astoria Greengrass.

She doesn't say anything to him, but she seems resolute in her position; and he can't decide if the action irritates or pleases him. It catches his attention, however, and whatever the Headmistress is saying dims to mere background noise as he studies the girl before him. Her head is turned to the side as she looks to the teacher's table and he follows her gaze, only to hear the elder's words come back into focus.

" … I would like to introduce to you all our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Raynor," Professor McGonagall's hand sweeps to her right where a young man sits, well 'young' by the rest of the staff's standards, with light brown hair and coffee-coloured eyes, wearing black robes with green and blue lining.

There is a round of polite applause as he smiles graciously at the Headmistress, and Draco turns his head quickly away. It's the first time he's really acknowledged Professor Snape's absence and what it truly means, and it causes something deep within him to ache; causes memories to come rushing back to him, voices and actions to flood his brain until all he can see is a running commentary of all he did the previous year and then before that.

"Draco!" her voice startles him and he snaps his eyes wide open.

He looks down and sees her hand on top of his and quickly wrenches it away, shooting those closest to him a glare.

Astoria continues to watch him throughout and it unnerves him; he narrows his eyes even further at her, ignores how her hand is still lying on the table between the two of them.

The attention of the rest of the Hall once again seems to shift their way just then as the Headmistress introduces them to Professor Axelle, the new Muggle Studies teacher, and Head of Gryffindor House. She is a lady of smaller stature than the teachers seated next to her, with jet-black hair set in a bob sort of style, and she looks over the tables with a tentative smile as they slowly begin to applaud her.

"Is there anything they won't stare at us for?" Astoria's exasperated voice cuts through the air. Loudly. "Honestly it's like we're something for them to ogle at and test for a reaction – for Merlin's sake, we're not part of a Care of Magical Creatures lesson!"

Her sister lays a hand on her arm and calmly tells her, in a much quieter tone, "You can't blame them for thinking the worst of us."

"Yes, I can," the younger answers shortly. "That's _all _they ever think of us; even after what you did for them last year. And even that wasn't enough – I mean, they only went an' bloody stripped you of the title!"

"Astoria, that's enough!" Daphne says sternly at that.

For her part, the petite brunette ceases her chatter. She looks set to say something else, but seems to think better of it; the last time her sister cast a _Silencio _charm on her it hadn't exactly ended well.

He's grateful for the distraction (_again_), though he won't tell her as such. He's not entirely sure if it was intentional on her part, or if stealing the interest away from him was merely a by-product that came with voicing her own opinions. He's never entirely sure about anything with this girl; it's what makes being in her company so very thrilling. He's not sure if she'll lose that when she gets older, grows up some more, as if the War didn't do that for them already; and he's not entirely sure he'd want her too.

When the Headmistress finally dismisses them, Astoria falls in line with the rest of her peers and looks set to make her way to the dungeons with them too. Daphne stops her with a swift tap on the shoulder and a raise of the eyebrow. The younger rolls her eyes and then turns on her heel and starts in the other direction. He chuckles lightly to himself at the minimal interaction; the more time he spends in their company, the more he learns to appreciate what they share; and it is definitely something unique.

.

The Fat Lady fans herself lazily, peering down at her with thinly veiled suspicion.

"I'm not doing anything wrong," Astoria tells her flatly.

"I never said you were," is the haughty reply.

The brunette rolls her eyes and releases a scoff, crossing her arms over her chest and petulantly kicking out a foot as she leans back against the stone railing.

She hears them before she sees them; their voices travelling up the staircase before the sound of their footsteps have ascended this far.

"I want to know what that was all about with Astoria Greengrass," the Head Girl says.

"_Merlin_, Hermione, the girl assaulted her, can't you leave it alone?" a male voice exclaims.

"No, Ron, I can't," is Granger's simple response to that. "People don't just throw punches at one another without due cause, especially not girls."

"She's a Slytherin," is the answer provided. "You can't be expected to treat her the same way you treat a normal human being."

There's sting in the tone. Astoria instantly recognises it as Ginny Weasley's; she bears her teeth and bites down on a growl.

"For goodness sake, Ginny!" the Head Girl cries, sounding exasperated. "She just a girl!"

"A girl who broke my nose not three hours ago!" is the redhead's impatient response to that.

And as the clamouring of soles on stone draws ever, Astoria turns to regard the Gryffindors who each pass slowly by her.

When Ron Weasley swivels quickly round to look at her before they've muttered the password, she shoots him a contemptuous glare.

"Oh, please, like I'd actually want to go in _there_," she scoffs; and turns her head to the side.

He mumbles something that sounds distinctly like, "Well, you never know," but seems to take the opportunity to murmur the phrase while her attention is averted; it's _dux bellorum_, in case the desire does so take her to join the Gryffindors in a little share-time around a warm fire. She steels her jaw, and clicks her tongue against her teeth, and fights the urge to leave right there and then.

_Leader of battles; of War._

_That_ is the Gryffindor password. She could throttle that overweight woman in the painting for even permitting them entrance.

Of course, she doesn't; she won't – but it doesn't stop her from hating them all that little bit more. They don't exactly make it difficult.

And they wonder why there's such a breach in contact between the two houses.

"Astoria," the Head Girl turns and addresses her, once her Housemates have gone.

"Granger," she returns.

"Right, well I've spoken to Professor Slughorn and he's agreed to let me carry out your detention this evening," the elder tells her.

She already knew that; her sister told her.

"Walk with me."

It sounds like a request, but Astoria knows better; it's barely a polite alternative to a demand.

"As you know, much has happened over the past couple of years, and Professor McGonagall is determined to restore Hogwarts to what it once was," the Head Girl informs her. "For this to happen, however, she needs the input of her students."

"So, what?" the younger questions, raising an eyebrow as she deduces, "You want me to basically conform to your opinion? In that for anyone to live peacefully here, either Slytherins have to be removed completely or you all have to accept that we're not the ones to blame?"

She shakes her head at the elder and they walk on for a short in silence.

"It's not exactly Merlin's Law why the roots of most Dark wizards can be traced back to Slytherin House, you know." Her tone is almost conversational when she next speaks. "Ambition will do that to you – breed a will for power. It's no wonder Slytherins want to dominate the world, gain as much power as possible."

The Head Girl is watching her closely, of this she knows. She doesn't meet her eyes, however; simply stares ahead, and tries to work out where exactly the elder is leading her.

"Just because most Dark wizards are Slytherins, doesn't mean most Slytherins are Dark."

They've stopped outside a door that Astoria doesn't recognise on an lower level corridor.

She turns to the older girl then, and says, "Besides, Peter Pettigrew was a Gryffindor and look how close he was to the Dark Lord. So, don't go holding us the only ones accountable."

When the Head Girl opens the door, and steps inside; she reveals to Astoria a world she has never known. The reason why is revealed to her mere moments later.

"I would like to know why you hit Ginny Weasley on the train," Granger says: once again, a _request._

She supposes it's in the Head Girl's interest to be seen as a friend of the people, an ally they can all turn to. Astoria knows it will never work out this way, however; she's already seen her sister try and fail. Then again, Gryffindors have a certain _knack_ for 'succeeding' where others have not. It would just be typical for history to repeat itself once again.

She turns and surveys the other, her cool gaze telling the elder that she knows exactly why she is here, specifically in this place, but she opens her mouth and replies, nonetheless. It seems to surprise the other, somewhat. It makes Astoria inwardly smile; she does so enjoy catching people off-guard, surprising them. It keeps things interesting, after all.

"She said some things that I didn't appreciate, so I hit her," the brunette calmly tells her.

She takes another step into the room; doing a full-turn as she eyes the walls that surround her, the pictures that adorn them.

"You hit her pretty hard," is the returned comment.

"She deserved it," Astoria shrugs, gaze still fixed on the array of paintings hanging high above their heads. "She thinks she knows me."

"Surely that's no reason to hit the girl," the elder remarks then.

"If I'm not mistaken you did the same to Draco Malfoy some years ago when he made a derogatory comment about your lineage," is all the brunette says in response to this.

Their eyes meet for a brief moment, before Astoria takes a step away and breaks anything they might've shared in two.

She's moved only a short distance when she stops and turns back, offering, "I'd advise Ginny Weasley to cease her prejudicial comments in future; unless she wants to see exactly how much further she can push me."

"Where are you going?" the Head Girl questions instantly, watching her as she advances towards the open door.

"You want my input?" the younger asks, staring the other girl down. "I think a lot of Slytherins deserve Azkaban for what they did during the War; I think a lot of those who walk the streets today don't deserve to."

Granger barely blinks as the words echo off the heavy walls.

"However, what I _know_ is that if this judicial system is to be successful, I have to take its ruling for what it is. To question it would be folly, because it is all done with a view of a better future, correct?"

The Head Girl nods, silent.

"Well, I imagine that if this school was run in much the same manner, then it would function as the outside world does," she says, and then she rolls her shoulders. "Take from that what you will."

Granger still hasn't said a word; it's satisfying to say the least, to have struck the witch dumb.

"But I won't be made an example of." Astoria is practically hissing as she spits the line.

She catches the Head Girl looking slightly shocked, and she narrows her eyes.

She gestures to the room in which they stand. "Asking me for my thoughts on how I think you should treat us? All the while, taking me to your former Head of House's office so I can be made to look into the eyes of the people my _friends_ murdered?"

"I apologise if you think this was a deliberate attempt to provoke you," is the response she's given, words tumbling hurriedly from apologetic lips.

The Head Girl sounds sincere; but actions speak louder than words in the younger's experience, and _these_ actions certainly tell a different tale than the elder is currently trying to spin with her tongue.

"I assure you, that was not the case." And she still sounds so damn genuine; it might sway Astoria if she didn't know any better. "I simply wanted to show you what it was like during those times when your side and ours were compatible, amicable even."

"That's just it," Astoria says in return, and she almost can't help the slight disbelief that colours her words. "You keep talking about sides."

The younger shakes her head: it bothers her that someone who is considered one of the smartest witches in the school, in the whole bleeding _country_ if she were to believe what the papers said (if she still read the papers), can be so blind to something so very obvious.

"If you wanted us to be accepted you'd know there's no such thing anymore."

She sounds resigned, and it echoes off every surface in the forgotten space.

"We're supposed to be in this _together_."

And with that Astoria Greengrass disappears into the shadows.

.

Daphne is sitting in the armchair by the fire reading a book on Charms when Astoria steps into the Common Room. She closes the book and places it aside, standing to address the younger.

"I'm sure there's an ulterior motive to you waiting up for me, as opposed to it simply being a show of sisterly concern to ensure I actually made it back to the dorms," Astoria comments by way of greeting.

"How did it go with Granger?" is all Daphne says to that.

Draco watches Astoria shrug, and then turn away from her sister. "Alright, I guess."

"I thought you'd be in later. What did she have you do?" the elder asks, taking her seat once more when the other drops into the couch opposite.

"Wanted my opinion on how to achieve _House Unity_," the petite brunette scoffs as she says it, rolling her eyes. "Of all things."

"Well?" Daphne prompts. "What did you tell her?"

"I told her if she wanted anything to progress she had to stop thinking of us in terms of _sides_," Astoria responds. "Which she does, and she shouldn't."

The elder rolls her eyes this time, only she heaves a sigh as well. "And what else?"

"And she had me go to that stupid room – the office McGonagall used to use." Her striking blue gaze cuts across to stare at her sister. "It's full of pictures, you know, of Hogwarts students, past and present. And I don't think I saw one Slytherin crest in any of them."

He's not entirely sure how accurate this is, but he imagines any silver and green would be a scarce occurrence. Astoria isn't exactly in the habit of lying: an unusual trait, in itself, nevermind in a House known to do anything and everything to achieve its end. He'd take her word, though, because he knows what it means to her. In this world, where words have become futile and empty promises flourish, she is part of an even rarer breed than before.

He'd be lying if he says it's not an all-together appealing trait. Then again, she's a Greengrass; they were born to fascinate others.

"So I told her I wasn't doing it," Astoria tells her, casually raising one shoulder.

"You left, then?" her sister deduces.

"I would have too," he finally speaks up from his place in the corner, drawing their attention.

He catches sight of both Greengrass's turning to look at him, though his eyes are still on the page before him. Astoria is smirking in his direction, this he knows. Daphne has just rolled her eyes; the dynamic between the two never fails to amuse him.

"You likely wouldn't have turned up in the first place," Daphne responds tartly.

Draco lifts his head and sends her a smug smile. "You're right. Though since she can't discipline a fellow Prefect like she can another student, I'd say it's really a moot point. I was just agreeing with your sister on the principle of the matter."

"_They'll_ never make progress?" she questions then as she looks from him to her younger sister and then back again. "_No one_ will ever make progress when there's people like you two going around throwing obstacles in the way at every turn."

"Not every turn," Astoria retorts, her eyes twinkling in a deliciously mischievous fashion.

"You're a selfish little witch, Asty, you know that?" Daphne tells her, standing and staring her sister down. "Keep this up and nothing is ever going to change."

"Oh, bugger off, Daphne," her younger sister answers to that. "I wasn't sticking around to be subjected to that. To look at the faces of all the ones that are dead because of the people who are supposed to be our _friends_! Because of their families!To see how they can all co-exist quite happily without any of _us_! And don't give me your high-and-mighty routine – You wouldn't have done it either!"

"Yes, I would!" the elder cuts her off.

Her staunch declaration rings off the cold walls that surround them.

"Yes, I would," she informs her younger sister indignantly, although he imagines the lesson to be learned is directed at him also. "I would have sucked it up and just gotten on with it. Because she is the Head Girl and I am not her equal. Because she had given me the respect of asking for my input in helping her bring about the change our Headmistress desires. Because she was _trying_ to show me of what she hopes she can achieve for all of us."

She drags in a deep breath at that, swallowing; they've still not said another word.

"I'm going to bed. We have class tomorrow and I, for one, don't intend to antagonise anyone further with tardiness or inattentiveness," Daphne ends.

She rises from her seat; grabbing her book from the place she had left it, before turning on her heel and moving towards her dormitory.

"I suggest you both do the same," she advises, though she's already turned her back on them.

Silence accompanies her on her way out, and for the few moments that follow the pair sit and watch the fire; the crackling of the charring wood and burning ashes filling the space between them, enveloping them together in a shared embrace of the warmth it provides.

"You know the worst part," Astoria says when her sister is out of sight, her eyes flickering in the light from the flames before them. "She would've done it too."

She looks even smaller, younger, when she turns her head and looks at him over her shoulder; sitting on the long couch, legs tucked underneath her, features illuminated in the glow of the fire.

"It's because she's better than us, you know," she tells him, her voice quiet, but the meaning strong.

He doesn't even realise he's sent a frown her way until she calls him on it; it's an unsettling ideal.

"Don't look at me like that," she chastises him a moment later. "You know it's true."

He curls his lip; so maybe he does.

"She's better than us," Astoria tells him, and she's shifted so she's facing away from him once more. "Better than the reputation she gets from this House."

He thinks it might be the first time he's ever heard her come anywhere near badmouthing Slytherin; she's loyal to the name and the people like they all are, well, like they used to be anyway.

He stands and moves till he's sitting on the other end of the couch from her, legs apart, hands clasped, back bent; leaning forward with his head turned to look at the younger.

"No one deserves the reputation from this House," he finds himself telling her.

He nods at his own words, lips pursed.

He doesn't even have to think it over, before he goes to add, "Well, except – "

"Shut up," Astoria cuts him off.

There's an edge to her tone, a strong undercurrent that could easily spill over into rage.

"Don't," she tells him. "Don't say it."

Draco tilts his head round that touch more, gaining a better vantage point as her lips curve slightly and her eyes flicker in the dim light.

"Self-pity isn't a good look on you, you know," Astoria remarks. "I wouldn't be surprised if it gets you killed."

He shoots her a scathing look and she grins. He takes the moment to marvel at how quickly her mood can turn around, before shaking the thought away. He'd pretend it's because she's young, and hasn't experienced as much of life as the rest of them; except he knows this is far from the truth. In reality, he's well aware that it's a coping mechanism; he can't blame her for adapting the way she has. He knows they all would, if they could. He's just glad some of them might actually find a way through all this.

And then she unfurls herself and stands up, taking his hand as she does so and pulling him up with her.

"Come on," she says. "We've gotta give her something to work with."

He allows her to tug him along in the direction of their respective dorms, and simply smirks after her retreating figure when they separate and she holds up a hand to bid him goodnight at the doorway to her dorm room.

His palm still tingles from her touch; he tells himself it's a natural reaction, because hers always seem so cold in comparison to his perpetually warm ones. He'll buy her a set of gloves so the next time she reaches for his hand; he won't feel the sparks run the length of his whole frame at the mere touch of her fingertips, her skin connecting with his.

_Yes_, Draco thinks, _next time_.

.

**_TBC…_**

* * *

A/N: Apologies for the delay. I'm not entirely happy with this chapter – especially how I ended it – but I can be my own worst critic at times, and as always, I'd love to hear your thoughts  
On another point though, it is a very loooong chapter ;)

Thanks so much for reading and reviewing thus far – it really means alot, so please, feel free to continue!  
Steph  
xxx


	6. Ch5: Villain

A/N: Sorry for the delay, life got in the way.

Hope you like…

* * *

Chapter Five: If I'm The Villain, What Does That Make You?

"… _I too well know its truth, from experience, that whenever any poor Gipsies are encamped anywhere and crimes and robberies &c. occur, it is invariably laid to their account, which is shocking; and if they are always looked upon as vagabonds, how can they become good people?"  
**Queen Victoria**_

.

They've barely been contained within the boundaries of the school a week when the Headmistress issues them with the warning that in addition to House Points being removed and detentions given, privileges will be stripped if their behaviour continues. Not _their _behaviour; that of all Houses.

During the previous lunch hour, a 'free for all' had broken out within a group of students and Astoria found herself with another detention. The Headmistress had assigned them all as 'aides' to a class during their free periods.

"Professor?" she addresses.

The brunette raises her eyebrows at the older woman when she looks up and stares at them all for a decidedly long moment. Like they'd be there if they didn't have to; she resists the urge to say this, even suppressing the accompanying scoff and eye-roll. Daphne should be proud of all the self-restraint she's displaying already; Astoria should be so lucky.

"We're the students Professor McGonagall sent to… help," she says the last part ever grudgingly.

"Oh, yes." Recollection appears to flood the elder's features and she smiles in a way the brunette suspects is supposed to be pleasant.

"You're Daphne Greengrass's sister, aren't you?" a small child next to the teacher asks in a particularly loud, clear, ringing voice.

Astoria overrides her impulse to deliver a biting reply when she notes the age of the inquirer, and instead answers simply, "Yes, I am."

"Are these your friends?" the youngster asks then, in what sounds like barely-contained excitement, which rather confuses the brunette.

She eyes the others up for a moment, and then responds, "That's pushing it a bit."

Harper looks decidedly put out, so Astoria relents.

"He is though," she adds, jerking her thumb to point to Harper; and then she thinks better of it, the smirk already crossing her lips as she rephrases, "Well… sort of."

"Right, well, why don't you and the rest from your House set yourselves up over there, and the others can go to this table here, and I'll be over in a minute or two to tell you what I would like you to do," Professor Sprout cuts in, her voice shrill and not at all resembling that of a few moments prior.

Recognition does that to people, Astoria is well aware; recollection follows, and that is usually worse.

The band of students trudge over to their assigned places. The Slytherins in the group have been sent possibly as far away from the other members of the class as possible; a fact that is not lost on any of them.

They are in with a 'second'-year class; given the shambles that was their education the previous year, the classes this year are both of mixed age and ability. They're studying Mandrakes and everything is fine, until Professor Sprout decides to announce to the whole greenhouse that Astoria is a plant killer.

"You remember the Mandrake, don't you, Miss Greengrass?" she calls across the space between them to the teenager. "You've murdered enough of them."

Naturally, this doesn't go down too well. And of course, she puts her side across.

Astoria tries to brush off the horrible feeling that threatens to overcome her then as she calmly responds, "I killed one Mandrake. One."

The brunette lets out a deep sigh.

Then she adds, "Would you let it go already? It was trying to hack my finger off, _I_ _told you_ that, it's not like I intentionally go around slaughtering your stupid plants just for something to do. Sheesh. Make it seem like I'm the Dark Lord-Incarnate why don't you?"

She blows the hair out of her face with an irritated breath.

"_Murdered enough of them_," she imitates the stout teacher, feeling whatever was beginning to settle deep in her stomach start to dissipate. "Give me a break, Professor, I have _much_ better things to do with my time."

"That is enough!" the Head of Hufflepuff's stern voice cuts through the air.

Astoria's scowl is plain to see.

"And for your information, Miss Greengrass," the Professor adds snidely, "I wasn't referring to the day your twelve-year-old self brutally hacked one of my plants apart."

She narrows her eyes even further as she faces the elder.

"Like I said," Professor Sprout says, as if for clarification, "You've murdered enough of them."

The implication is clear: as far as the elder is concerned, the moment Astoria Greengrass raised her wand to disable the first flying plant that came over the school walls towards the battle raging below, stopping it in its ability to render its opponent unconscious – _or worse_ – she had chosen her side, and it was not one that went along with the wishes of those residing within these very walls trying to defend them. It was not the side that Professor Sprout herself was on. Apparently.

Like anything's ever that black and white.

"You can hate me all you want – but at least _I_ wasn't trying to aim for my colleagues," the teenager hisses out. "Despite the propaganda your House is trying to spread."

"Out!"

The elder's shrill voice threatens to burst her eardrums; she is sure she will hear the ringing for the next hour, at least.

"Out you go! Now!" the woman shouts again. "I have no place for such an insolent mouth in my classroom, now away with you."

"Of course you don't," Astoria mutters with a roll of the eyes.

She really just doesn't know when to keep her mouth shut.

Case in point: she stops just before she reaches the door to lean over and whisper menacingly into the ear of Hufflepuff girl from earlier, "They say the cry of a Mandrake is like the scream of a dying child."

"Out! Out!" comes the haggard call from Professor Sprout and then the call to the teenager's retreating form. "And I will be informing Professor Slughorn of this!"

The woman's flustered voice drowns in the distance as Astoria wrenches the handle before her and flings open the door, forcing herself to laugh, loudly.

The door slams behind her and she manages to make it all the way back up to the castle before she stops to lean against the cold stone and take a breath.

_Damn_, she thinks. Daphne is going to give her Hell.

She inwardly berates herself for falling into such an easy ploy; she's smarter than this, she knows. Smarter than someone who simply falls foul of the silly, petty, bait that people keep throwing their way – as if it was something entirely new that she's never encountered before.

She curses again, screws her eyes shut and takes a deep breath in.

When she opens them, Draco Malfoy is standing before her with a curious expression on his face, and when she turns her head to the side with a groan she realises she's already standing outside Professor Slughorn's office.

Typical.

.

She is leaning against the wall outside their Head of House's office; her head tipped back, her closed eyes directed upwards. He has his suspicions that she is aware of his presence, though she makes no move to confirm as such until he speaks.

"There a specific reason why you're standing outside Slughorn's office looking set to bash your head in against that wall? Or do you just enjoy looking like the Slytherin poster-child for all of Hogwarts to base its opinions on?"

Astoria cracks open an eye and dryly replies, "What can I say? I thought the red from my blood would make for an interesting change in décor."

She breathes out a soft sigh and pushes herself upwards off the wall, and eyes him fully.

"Walk with me," Draco tells her then, apparently surprising her.

She squints her eyes at him, and when he takes a step away, she still doesn't move. It takes her three more of his before she makes her first.

"So," he addresses the matter instantly. "Want to tell me what you were doing?"

"Not particularly," is her response.

She casts him a sideways glance that tells him as such.

They walk in silence for a few minutes before she finally announces, "Have you ever hated something so much that you wished it gone – completely. And yet you know without it, you might not be who you are?"

"Every day," he breathes out; a whisper to the early morning air that swirls around them.

He surprises himself with this admission.

Astoria turns to him then, but doesn't stop walking in tandem with him. He can see her expression from the corner of his eye, and he turns to meet it, to face her.

"You shouldn't let them get to you, you know," he tells her simply. "It's no different from what it was like then, and you survived."

"Except it _is_ different," she counters, scuffing her shoe on the stone slabs beneath their feet and turning away from him to look to their path ahead. "Because this time it's not just the parents of people we know who were murdered, it's the people we know who have been murdered _by our parents_."

"Your parents didn't do anything," he remarks, trying to keep his voice neutral.

"Oh, I know _that_," Astoria replies.

She casts him a look: a very distinctive look.

"They don't though," she notes, and raises one shoulder in a half-shrug.

She turns to face him and tries to crack a smile, but it falls flat; and either way, he's not buying into it.

"So, I guess you're suffering for the sins of your parents, and I'm suffering for the sins of myself," she says.

"You didn't do anything," he comments at this, watching her carefully.

He's well aware that she wasn't entirely innocent in the War; doubts many of them could claim such a fact, but he does know that whatever her actions, or inactions, they could hardly compare even to the ones committed by his hand.

"Actually, I think you'll find that _Petrifying_ Mandrakes during _The Battle of Hogwarts_ is now a mighty despicable offence to high-ranking members of our school system," she remarks, trying for nonchalantly, although her inflection on certain words clue him in otherwise. "It's a sure-sign that I then went on to do the same to the very people I share the hallways and classrooms with now – most likely I did worse to them though."

He stops, turns to look at her; and when she makes a move to continue forward alone he catches her by placing his hands on her upper arms. She turns slowly to face him.

"Someone accused you of murdering plants?" Draco asks, the words being drawn slowly from his tongue as he raises an eyebrow. "And that's why you're so upset?"

"I'm not upset."

Astoria enunciates the final word and he almost smirks at the memory of their previous conversation with much the same topic and exactly the same response.

"If anything, I'm disappointed," she rephrases. "The woman accuses me of murdering_ Mandrakes_ for Merlin's sake – one, sure I'll admit to; but everyone already knows about that, it's old news. _Multiple?_ Well that's a whole 'nother story. And where in there does it say that stopping my _friends _from being rendered unconscious _or worse_ is an evil deed? And _how _does that suddenly mean I turned on everyone else?"

He stays silent, watches the emotions flood across her face, merge with one another, give way to each other. He's mesmerized; she's ranting about an injustice that is not wholly something new to him, to any of them in fact. But she wanted something different. She didn't want this.

"You didn't want to come back," he voices; this is the point.

She blinks and seems to refocus her gaze on him, and suddenly it's like she's looking deeper into him than anyone ever has; the cool blue of her eyes more piercing than ever.

"I'm surprised anyone did," is her response to that, and then she turns on her heel and walks away.

.

Their Head of House catches her on way back to the Common Room after class, asks her if she's seen her sister.

"What's she done this time?" Daphne asks, tries to keep her voice light, mildly amused; bites back against the sigh, the disappointment.

"You always think the worst," the elder comments, watching her closely. "You award others the benefit of the doubt, and yet when it comes to your sister; you automatically assume the worst."

She's had years of practice putting on a face to the world; it makes it easier to simply take the professor's words for what they are, just words. And they are just words, of course they are; it's not like there's really much truth to them, much depth.

And even if she _does_ automatically assume the worst, it's only because she knows what Astoria is capable of, it's only because she knows her sister.

"Are you looking for her to issue her with a punishment, Professor?"

She knows she's playing into his hands, but if he doesn't answer in the negative, he's playing into hers as well.

He touches a finger to his lips, murmurs a soft _hmm_ around a smile.

He doesn't quite meet her eyes as he requests, "Send her to my office after dinner, Daphne."

She knows her sister. It is exactly the reason she simply nods at the professor's words, tells him she'll send her sister his way when she finds her, and moves swiftly towards the Quidditch pitches to locate the younger.

And Astoria is exactly where she knew she'd be, because Daphne _knows her sister._

The teenager lands near her, feet planting firmly on the ground as she skids to a halt. She blows the hair out of her face, as she takes in the elder's appearance, all poised and elegant even as she stands on the muddy field.

"Sis," Astoria merely acknowledges, brushing by her, broomstick swung high over her shoulder.

She turns and calls after the younger, "Was it worth it?"

Her little sister spins round, and with her arms outstretched it's almost as if she cannot help the smirk that follows.

"It always is, isn't it?"

Daphne's left to watch her retreating form as the rain begins to fall. She'll be late for dinner if she doesn't move soon, but she doesn't care; because all she can think about is that dejected look in her sister's eyes, all she can think about is how hollow her sister's voice had sounded, all she can think about is the deflated stance that held her sister's frame in place.

Finally a collection of loud shouts, dull thuds and the combined clatter of metal, plastic, wood and stone awaken her from her thoughts and drag her upwards towards their source near the castle entrance.

When she reaches the source of the noise, she is out of breath and can barely make out the sound of her own voice above the howling wind, nevermind expect them to.

There's a small group of boys caught up in a duel of some sort; actually, it's more like a _fistfight_ than a duel. Daphne wrinkles her nose, and thinks to herself, _how Muggle._ She can't help it; she may pretend otherwise at times, but she's still a Pureblood and she's still a Greengrass.

They stop when she commands it, though she notes that Theo is the first to draw back at her words. He is the only Slytherin involved, and he is the worst affected; she scoffs at even her own terminology; 'affected', try _beaten._

She instructs a small First Year standing nearby to go to the Hospital Wing and inform Madame Pomfrey that she will be sending four injured students up to her; sends another into the Great Hall to find their respective Heads of Houses and tell them that an _incident_ has occurred just outside that requires their attention.

When she is certain that the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw students – _when did they decide to play tag-team?_ – will remain where they are without further disruption, she drops to her knees by Theo's side and lifts a hand to his face, cupping his cheek in the palm of her hand. He turns at her touch, meets her eyes, and she can't help the gasp that escapes her lips.

"Oh, Theo," she breathes out. "What did they do to you?"

He attempts a smile for her benefit, but fails when it falls into a wince.

"It's hardly as bad as it looks, Daph," he tries to placate her worries as well.

"I think we'll leave Madame Pomfrey to be the judge of that," she tells him in return, trying to muster a somewhat reassuring smile of her own.

She hears muttering from behind her and swivels round to fit the three sitting boys with a glare.

"What was that?" she demands, when one of them sounds far too like a derogatory comment aimed specifically at her for her liking; she thought they were past this.

The others grumble, but one of them decides to speak up. It is the Gryffindor, and she can't help but inwardly roll her eyes. _Typical_, she thinks_, always have to live up to their 'brave' namesake_.

"I said," he repeats through gritted teeth, "That next time we'll have to go for someone a bit closer to home; someone with a bit more influence."

He raises his eyebrows in a gesture she's sure he thinks will appear menacing, but he must be severely deluded, or simply severely concussed; because she's _Slytherin_, for Merlin's sake. Don't these people _listen_ to their own propaganda anymore? _They're_ supposed to be the bad guys, the epitome of evil incarnate. In what world would a bit of eyebrow wiggling and hard staring scare a _Slytherin_ away? A _reformed_ one, apparently.

"Right," she huffs, more annoyed that he's taken her attention away from Theo for something as ridiculous as an empty threat than the words that actually spout from his mouth.

"Maybe someone like Malfoy," the boy continues.

Daphne rolls her eyes and shares a crinkling of the lips with Theo; she can't think a ragged bunch like them could ever take out the blonde. The only reason Theo fell victim to their little group was because – well, she's not entirely sure how it happened, in fact.

She tilts her head to the side to survey the boy before her, opens her mouth to question him on the matter at hand, when the Gryffindor speaks once more.

"Or your sister."

She whirls round at the words, and hears Theo bite back a growl; it strikes her then that she's never known him to be so animalistic.

"Talking about me again, Naylor?"

Astoria's amused voice carries the length and breadth of the courtyard as she appears behind the trio; and Daphne can't help but smile, because her sister has always known how to make an entrance.

"You know if you wanted my attention that badly, all you really had to do was call on me," the teenager tells him, with a sickly sweet smile directed towards the back of his head.

She's not amused when she grabs a fistful of the boy's hair and drags him backwards till he's face-to-face with her.

And she's most definitely not amused when she bends down and delivers the boy with the chilling message through gritted teeth: "Let's not pretend this isn't about me, because we all know it is. Go after my sister or one of her friends again to get to me and I'll do more than just hex you."

Daphne can't help the swish of pride that travels through her with a flurry when she sees her little sister being so assertive, so intimidating. Even if she doesn't approve, Astoria also happens to have a certain flair for these sorts of things. The girl has style; that is undeniable.

"Are we clear?" Astoria asks, and her voice is melodic as she utters the words, her smile a match as he nods his affirmation within her firm grasp.

"Slughorn wants to see you," is all Daphne says to her sister when the younger has straightened and taken in the scene before her.

"Oh, I expect he does," Astoria responds.

She can't quite read the tone of her sister's voice; it worries her the same as it did earlier.

"Though he'll be wanting to see you first, I'd imagine," the younger adds with a smirk, and with that she flounces off.

.

"No Astoria this evening?" Draco asks, the smirk in his voice fully acknowledgeable in his tone; but he's fishing, he's always fishing really.

"Please, Draco," Blaise shoots him a scathing look. "We have fun, and I won't deny that she's more than a little pleasing on the eyes – but we're not _together_. Never have been, at least not like you and _Pansy_ anyway."

"People keep using us as an example of relationships," the blonde states at that, finger lifted to touch his lips and head tilted as if to contemplate this thought. "You do all realise we're no longer together, yes?"

"Oh, we know," the other replies, his face now alight with a smile. "But you're about the closest example anyone here has to anything more than friendship; and you did have a tad more longevity than most of our flings, so you know…"

"I suppose it's a good thing you broke up. Else we'd all have been aiming to be nothing more than harlots and spoiled princes," Astoria's voice carries across the room and she flashes them both a wide grin when they look up at her.

"Charming," Draco comments as she begins to make her way over to them.

"I only speak the truth," is her casual response as she takes a seat in the sofa opposite, tucking her legs neatly beneath her as if it's the natural progression in such a state.

"Times like these, I'd prefer it if you didn't speak at all," the blonde mutters, and casts a sideways glance at her.

"I'm sure you would," she comments, fitting him with a look, before offhandedly informing them, "Though I only came to tell you Theo's in the Hospital Wing."

Both boys sit a little straighter at the news.

"My sister said I should pass the information along," Astoria says, casting them a single glance as she retrieves a forgotten piece of _literature _and begins to scan through it, a mildly interested look on her face.

"Tell us," Draco finally relents, the growl low in his throat; oh how she loves to rile him. It would appear that the feeling is mutual.

She sends him a sweet smile, before returning her gaze to the discarded copy of _Witch Weekly_, saying, "He got in some sort of fight with a Gryffindor or the like – there's a small group of them stuck up there getting treatment."

They're both set to say something, but she cuts them off.

"And that is all I will say."

"It's not all you know though," Draco perceptively comments.

"Of course it's not," Astoria replies, if not a little smugly, as she meets his eyes, and beams over the magazine held up in front of her. "But it is all I'm going to say."

He takes the moment to lean back against the seat once more.

"I'm sure when Celina Arnett appears tonight and throws herself at dear Blaise here, he will be only too happy to pass along the details," she remarks then, looking across at the boy to add, "Isn't that right, Blaise?"

Blaise simply smirks, and returns his attention to his book. It's common knowledge that Celina thrives on gossip, and apparently it's also common knowledge that Blaise likes her to do her _thriving_ beneath him.

Astoria raises her eyebrows at the blonde as if to say, _See? There's your answer._

Draco rolls his eyes and rises from where he's been seated this past while, looking to Blaise with a silent raise of the eyebrow himself. _Going to join me?_

The other boy heaves a sigh, and snaps his book shut, planting his feet on the ground and straightening to join him.

"Fine, I'll come with you," Blaise says. "But I've someone to see first."

He catches Astoria's smirk as she continues to flick through her magazine; apparently she's more interested in what is going on with the two boys standing before her than she is with those on her glossy pages. He finds this amuses him more than he thought it would, and he catches his own smirk before it can creep any further along his lips.

"We'll pass on your regards," he tells the younger as they move past her, and watches as she slowly lifts her gaze to meet his.

"Don't bother," she replies. "I rather doubt my sister will take too kindly to it."

"Concerned for my well-being, Greengrass?" he asks; and he allows the smirk to curve his lips fully this time.

She scoffs, turns a page, and then meets his eyes once more. "Hardly. I'd just prefer not to have my sheets stained with blood tonight; they're new, you see, and the blue would clash terribly with the shade I've just picked out."

He shakes his head at her, brushing off her comments about her _Pure_ blood along with her apparent disregard for his health. Everyone knows Daphne is more the type to wound with words rather than direct action; and wound she could. He'd seen it first hand, of course, during their reign as Heads, and even before – on occasion. He doubts she'd ever turn on her sister like that though; he's seen how the elder is with Astoria. And Astoria may be many things, a complete abomination to her sister at times, true; but Daphne has lasted this long without letting loose on the girl, he can't imagine she'd start now.

Unless of course –

His thoughts are confirmed when he enters the Hospital Wing, alone (Blaise had _matters_ to attend to, apparently – see _Celina Arnett _and insert eye roll) and hears the hushed conversation of Daphne and Theo as he approaches the boy's bed.

"Look, you can hardly blame her for something that wasn't really her fault in the first place," he hears the boy say, the defence in his voice evident. "She wasn't even there, Daphne!"

"But she knew him, and you heard her – she said it herself that he was only doing it to get to her," is the girl's counter-argument.

Draco's intrigued. He knows instantly to whom they are both referring, and he's not sure if it's his natural affinity to want to know everything that has him stepping stealthily closer, or because the whole matter seems to centre around a girl who seems to prefer to think he doesn't even exist. _He_ prefers not to think too much about it, and takes another step forward.

"He was saying things about you, Daphne!" Theo responds at that, voice raised higher than before. "He was saying things about all of us – Astoria included, sure, but it wasn't all about her."

This has his curiosity piquing; he wants to know _what _things and by _whom_.

"Of course, I didn't appreciate him saying those sorts of things about my girlfriend's little sister," the other boy says then, and his voice has dipped to that lower octave once more.

He watches Theo raise his hand to Daphne's face, hold her chin between his fingers.

"But most of all, I didn't appreciate him saying those sorts of things about my girlfriend."

Draco rolls his eyes at the line, halts where he is in a move that will allow the _couple_ their moment of privacy and ensure that he does not have to play witness to it.

A few minutes later he steps decidedly forward, calling out, "Theo!" as he pulls back the curtain and enters the boy's personal space.

He's had enough of pretending he's not there when he is; so bursting in on his peers doesn't faze him really; lack of decorum and all that be damned.

Naturally they're only too happy to accommodate him.

.

**_TBC…_**

* * *

Thanks so much for reading, please let me know what you thought of it :)  
Also, apologies for the delay – hopefully more to come quite soon!  
There should be more Astoria/Draco from the next chapter onwards, I think, -ish – maybe ;)  
Steph  
xxx


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